Chopped : Liver

Candygram for Mongo

It’s a gnarly place where anything can happen

Someone could make off with all your garbage

There’s food, drugs, and beverages around

the threat of wild and vicious poodles

Reporting about it is accomplished with a simple formula

It’s mainly a cut-and-paste operation

You don’t judge, you don’t express personal views

A kind of literary reality television

I’d be in bed with my laptop

and painstakingly transcribe everything

and you’ve probably never even heard of it

The idea of profit never occurs to me

Nothing but freedom. Collapsed stars are too big

to trap light forever

You know the difference between Ren and Stimpy?

Complex structures of power and control

But actually, it was all about sex

A realm not explicitly said to be post-apocalyptic

She’s 3 million years old when she slips into lurid fantasies

The little dinosaur skeleton

Hey listen, something very serious happened

It started with a bunch of tiki torches

and the music turned up on my car stereo

The corrupt but exciting music industry

decided that I would cook liver for my last supper

Because large, easy-to-kill prey are becoming harder to find

King of the Creeps

Seriously, it’s not that goddamn dangerous to make a cupcake

This sounds ridiculous, I’m sure. It is ridiculous

What kind of monster doesn’t want to go to a picnic?

Spinning clock to indicate the passage of time

A couple years later we started a blood-frenzied quest for retribution

At this point we have to dig up their bones

and study the wear patterns on their teeth

I made some calls and put out the word

that I wanted to do something big

But things are not going according to plan

It seems that humanity’s alien foes have other ideas

And now I must push on alone—utterly alone

in the crushingly solitary pursuit of justice

And so begins an iconic success story

that has often been told before but rarely so one-dimensionally

or with such firm adherence to the company line

Nudity is beautiful and also funny

I’m talking about how humans bred with aliens

An overtly fertile woman with tiny hips and an oversized head

with a giant gaping vagina

baking an obscure ancestral pastry

People would walk into her genitals

making her so ill that she had to leave

Any social system that people have to fit into

usually entails some bloodshed

They cultivated this boot camp environment

Everything is a race against time

I paint from morning till night

and often all through the night until morning

trying to say what I want to say before I die

I use countless numbers of brushes at a time

I use knives, forks, sponges

I gouge open tubes of paint Then I start painting

on the walls, the furniture, the washing machine

pop goddesses with bulging curves

a giant assemblage of the heads of politicians

Kennedy, Castro, King Kong, Donald Duck

A giant floating head tells James Bond that the penis is evil

A girl flies around space and kills gods with her friend

Everyone is just naked and no one gives a shit

That’s far more consistent with the way I see life

but maybe that’s not the sort of fondly-remembered

cult cartoon series from the 1970s

poised to launch yet another franchise

I can’t sing I ain’t no monkey

I’m middle-aged and completely bald

Hence Elvis Presley’s crown of thorns

See how serious I can get?

I’ve learned so much about alcohol and what the effects are

working as a Lady Liberty sign-twirler for a tax service

Market domination

The need to rebrand the ideology for a new generation

Just a pretext for some grotesque slapstick

And I did a good job and lots of people liked it. I was real proud

The congregation swooned

Sometimes I just want to shoot my machine gun in the air, you know?

It was useful to learn that it was available

and could make me feel better about small stretches of my life

I think of myself found dead in a hotel room

splattered with blood and explanatory charts

lends him an air of authenticity

writes the obituary

for the moment, though, he is in limbo

he couldn’t make any art for months

sex is important for pleasure in life

Amusement park rides are designed with a very specific purpose in mind

We expected teleportation pods

names and photographs of rumored sex offenders

gigantic Frankenstein boots

Joining “the community” was just a click away


Poemsville No. 2

Confuse-∆-Cat Publishing

© ∞

Download full issue for free here

David AyersKerstin Millnamow, Nancyboy di Frangipani, Lucius Cornelius Feyfellow, MWRSage RatSam LohmannChuckling PecanAndy Heck BoydTyler the CreatornightritesvoidpieCharley Foster

© ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞

Beware the coming of Sage Rat

HarkThe Ten Thousand Dollar Poem

And in case you missed Poemsville the first. Thar she blows.

Generally if you call a flesh-bound Bible a poem, it is

which makes me uncomfortable and excited

like falling down the stairs with someone’s baby

I am the enemy of art in my tiny tower of power

As a result I have good associations

but I have no tattoos—not even one!

I feel like I’m still adapting to society

I’m also not too familiar with French intellectuals

I don’t have grand thoughts

I’ve replaced my message tees

with a great-quality cotton tee I can dress up or down

For me, naked and shiny, the groove is the thing

Already over the hill and disconnected from contemporary culture

It seems that this might be a moment to take stock

I am certain that the LSD experiments helped me very much

A seminal influence was Black Flag, Hüsker Dü, and the Minutemen

Swinging Modern Sounds by earthly Sinatras in outer space

a particularly incendiary show by the Butthole Surfers, for example

wearing the dresses of the brides they’ve killed

I only did karaoke once in my life and it was a total disaster

It was almost like college

The violence, the lawsuits

All I wanted was some chicken nuggets

I’m just online too much I drink too much

I only get to go to the beach on my way to the bar

I have bodily aches and pains

It’s a horrible life, and I’d like to trade it with somebody else

I’d be a mermaid in a second and I can’t even swim

It’s probably exciting to be a boob-flasher

or a crazy lipstick-smeared cokewhore

seizing the means of production

and replacing it with a local distribution system

Something like 200,000 words maybe more

written in bulls-eye Americanese

have been composed in this enterprise

Because what else is there?

It’s important to remember that this was a total mom-and-pop operation

stumbling along in the dark, trying to re-invent ourselves

until that one fateful day we were confronted and run out of town

One mistake and the whole thing goes down in flames

Obviously this is both a joke and a battle cry

The revelation for me was the present moment

When something threatens to destroy your world

You can never re-create that. You can only honor it

“it makes sense that MFA programs and university presses that are tied to them, and the contest publishing system, would want you to need them, to establish a value system that would keep them desirable, which has something to do with a sense of validity and of being chosen, and all the American bullshit of being number 1, the best, winning, prizes, awards, degrees, etc. That is a big market, but it doesn’t necessarily produce the best or most original art. I’m generalizing of course.”

Sampson Starkweather

A glob of stray semen
led to intense introspection
and spirituality

stunningly devoid of purpose
All it has to offer
is a repugnant prurience

In the end you won’t remember
the time you spent
sitting for hours at a time

where the impossibility of existence
is experienced first hand

Many media accounts have been outright wrong

Being sucked into an airplane engine

is like a roller coaster of emotion

Facebook rants may help

mopey sad white men self-actualize

And I get it, I get it. I get why

After all we are all going to die

and go to hell if we don’t know Jesus

God has abandoned us!

The Apaches thunder over the hills

Human remains hang from tree branches

You’ve never seen the Holocaust from this angle

working in the office or mowing your lawn

This is as close as you’ll ever get

even as evidence mounts

that you probably have herpes already

The welfare money came in

so everyone’s buying

midnight candy bars

I handed the guy behind the counter

a couple bucks

and he offered me a few words

of roach-killing wisdom

and I got the fuck out of there

This wasn’t the first time

someone accused me

of stealing a subculture

I remember being punk

and then trash and vaudeville

Then Abercrombie and Tory Burch

As I grew older and technology

became more complex

I shot “snapshots”

and “home movies”

of close friends, acquaintances

strangers, and my mother

They take out their phones,

start eating pizza

and pluck stray hairs

from their bikini lines

In hindsight, maybe

I wouldn’t have had to buy

the fucking Chihuahua

if I wasn’t so sexually indifferent


Poemsville No. 2

Confuse-∆-Cat Publishing

© ∞

Download full issue for free here

David AyersKerstin Millnamow, Nancyboy di Frangipani, Lucius Cornelius Feyfellow, MWRSage Rat, Sam Lohmann, Chuckling PecanAndy Heck Boyd, Tyler the Creator, nightrites, voidpie, Charley Foster

© ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞ © ∞

Beware the coming of Sage Rat

Hark. The Ten Thousand Dollar Poem

And in case you missed Poemsville the first. Thar she blows.