Chopped : Liver

Candygram for Mongo

Your screen or desktop reflects your individual personality

When you want to zone out for a while

sit naked watching the moon

Everyone has a different approach

I see the world as if through a kaleidoscope

adding rockets and speed and corrupt cops

The streets dark with something more than night

And so, inevitably, came the backlash against the backlash

What happened next was nothing short of a miracle

A true story of the fight for leadership within the gorilla community

This way the demons have decided to take over the planet 

I’m the class clown’s assistant

I can hardly believe it

I have to pinch myself every time I wake up

Some people are so dramatic about it

“I hope we run into each other again soon!”

they squeal as you walk away

What are their stories?

Someone commits suicide

Two people are arrested for distributing child pornography

Someone crashes her car while texting

It’s like I’m a Kobe beef cow

The rules are changing

all because of Cultural Insensitivity!

Who would have thought that a night

of great sex with a cheap French prostitute

could help me enjoy the rest of my life so much?

It would be a shocking, emotional story

if every act of violence weren’t portrayed with such high camp

Glass and debris were strewn everywhere like confetti

Imagine me, I have OCD

everything needs to be clean and orderly

I was a little curious as to how this was going to work out

Because of my neurological anomalies

I wanted to leave messages for myself to find

it wasn’t really that much different than your typical

“cute animals doing something crazy” Internet video

epistemologicalfallacy:

                                 29 

There sat down, once, a thing on Henry’s heart
só heavy, if he had a hundred years
& more, & weeping, sleepless, in all them time
Henry could not make good.
Starts again always in Henry’s ears
the little cough somewhere, an odour, a chime.

And there is another thing he has in mind
like a grave Sienese face a thousand years
would fail to blur the still profiled reproach of. Ghastly,
with open eyes, he attends, blind.
All the bells say: too late. This is not for tears;
thinking.

But never did Henry, as he thought he did,
end anyone and hacks her body up
and hide the pieces, where they may be found.
He knows: he went over everyone, & nobody’s missing.
Often he reckons, in the dawn, them up.
Nobody is ever missing.

                                       

                                         —John Berryman, 1964

hermaphroditictelephones:

Poemsville No. 2
Confuse-∆-Cat Publishing
© ∞
Download full issue for free here
David Ayers, Kerstin Millnamow, Nancyboy di Frangipani, Lucius Cornelius Feyfellow, MWR, Sage Rat, Sam Lohmann, Chuckling Pecan, Andy 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.

hermaphroditictelephones:

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.

Is love a cliché? I didn’t know that

I like pretty because it’s a word teachers cross out

If you have any questions about the rules please ask

I used to think my curves were shameful and ugly

and entered into a rather fashionable revolt

against the limitations of a suburban middle-class background

The power went to my head

A happy dream, an alternative world

I have indeed hated all forms of public authority ever since

After these valiant childhood efforts

I have a problem you see

I don’t really know how to write poems

I just end up being assimilated and absorbed by it

I always like the way they make me, ah, feel

Could I be right and the whole country wrong?

wordpimp:

on my soul’s ragged Wednesday

night-crawler spandex marmalade sunset
watching old movies at home with the kids
on my vacation / stay-at-home
PBS the difficult dog
I want to go to California or Spain
leave the working-class English Wimbledon winner
find a bullfighter
I ignored a Twilight Zone marathon on Syfy
blue sky far off
the hilltop kept climbers from seeing the horizon
a week without sun will do that

I guess we’ll do puzzles till the time comes
but this one will be difficult
I took a 100 yard swim test in the rain
I nearly ran out of breath
waiting for the fish to flash down
silver fish flash down on me

I used to love puzzles, I tell them start with the border
this one had 3 wolves and a moon

How to evict corporate whores from your basement

wordpimp:

Within famous baskets
Hollow sounds, and Vaseline
Invent-Tech garage inventers invent the next big thing
Like, you know, cardboard VR glasses
Or a diesel additive
But the sugar is still stuck to your coat

What we could really use is some sort of key
to where Melanie lives
I am thinking of her sexy foot right now
Toes a tap tapping underneath her office chair
Working on a spreadsheet, or is she
surreptitiously reading Márquez underneath those monitors
Whatever, her nail polish is purdy purdy
and I wanna suck it right off

Does she know I have perverse thoughts
I doubt it
But I do appreciate how she slips her shoes off each day
letting those nude sculpted feet bask in the afternoon sun

I used to think about having an affair with her
It would’ve been fancy
kissing her feet all night while she made
duck face selfies at her fans on her Facebook page
Enough to make the whole world come

Our namesake, the baby
Would’ve been called George
That child is now 5 years old and ready to grow up

Celestial abbatoir silkscreen

wordpimp:

Botswana lover
Calendar entropy
Needle engine

My nightmare is a body I can’t push
I push to the ceiling though
I push my wheelbarrow to the trap door and I dump my body out

I push the gasoline lawn mower around and around
In a zombie striped t-shirt
It has four wheels
More stable
It is a hot June day and the sun is muggy
Like a goat
Clouds are overhanging overblown
Stupid me walking around and around
Trying to recite lines to memorialize

*

I got out the wheelchair armchair weedeater and my two arms
I strapped on the weedeater
I like that
Sheen on my wrists
Clearing blackberry briars of other briars
Feeling the pricks getting lost in the woods the work
Everything on my back
Down to a swishing motion

Do you know if you plant English ivy it will eat your entire family
Same as kudzu
It is not cute

I had gotten so far with history
Like a big dumb mule plow
But that is not how angels operate
They are elegant scythe workers
They work on big dumb blowsy pillows
They kill us in sleep

I wanted that big mansion
Like a meditation
We used to drive by that and I would wonder
Who owns that
Now everybody has a house like that
Every body is a principal

I’m just a regular people
Who can’t remember my nightmare

*

Amarillo, it stinks
The cows are blown in the wind
And the Dust is their dung
Who would want to live in that fucking place

And that is a problem
Only so many good places

I pinky swear, if I ever find another good one
I will just stop and get out

And that is a trouble
My nightmare is A capital a decapitated headless animal cow

I De-elevate
I Push to that ceiling
I dump the body
I go back

I am a man of my word
But it feels like yard work
Barrow after barrow of word stuck in the mulch
It leaves a bitterish taste
I have seven yards of it
To work all summer

Those loins will soak you anyways

*

I was Burt Reynolds
Who were you
I bought that house you looked at
With my Smokey and the Bandit money
You liked Deliverance better
Well fuck you then
Hillbillies and chainsaws
That’s what we have to work with

I looked at the fell tree all spring and I subdivided it
With my eye
Little sections they would come out
Split up
To be cord wood for the winter
I am waiting on cooler weather
I won’t run that thing at night
It’s the wrong tool
I can’t Chisel it, cut, blend it in to where it fits me
Yet I can look forward to it

That is an Interesting ladder
Holy holy
I would find a Famous man dead in my backyard
Sew him up in a suitcase for the trouble

A flock of starlings flies as one

A behavior that mirrors

cops knocking at your door

the wild parties for Disney interns

a shit hole called Las Vegas

But how did we get to this point?

We were talking about God’s view of sex

think the Virgin Mary but

without the actual virgin part

It’s terrifying when something you do as a joke

with elaborate rituals and routines

designed to bamboozle

and mystify and intimidate

just surrounds everyone

with this oppressive atmosphere

of overwhelming dread and creepiness

Soon my biggest aspiration is just to survive

My life could have been so different

You should never become part of the story

It’s crowded, it’s bloated, it’s expensive, it’s phony

like the plot of a screwball comedy

and some of the people there are super weird

You don’t really get an irony factor

in wearing Hawaiian shirts

but if you want to wear it

that’s super subversive too

Raised by a generation of hippies

I waited breathlessly for a moment of believability

A surprising amount of pathological drama

occurs on the road to “self-actualization”

A corrupt cop is shaking down drug dealers

A serial killer is stalking strippers

Marriages are soiled

Heinous crimes are committed

I can identify with the desperation

I’m writing from the perspective

of someone who watched

an insane amount of television as a kid

Any kind of will or identity

is not an option for me right now

But I didn’t think I had a “drinking problem”

And then something like this comes along

to change the course of the current hostilities

They telephoned their cult headquarters

to announce a bunch of creepy weirdness

riddled with dreams and astrology

I desperately asked my dad to build a fallout shelter

He said he’d do it later

Raised by a generation of hippies

I waited breathlessly for a moment of believability

A surprising amount of pathological drama

occurs on the road to “self-actualization”

A corrupt cop is shaking down drug dealers

A serial killer is stalking strippers

Marriages are soiled

Heinous crimes are committed

I can identify with the desperation

I’m writing from the perspective

of someone who watched

an insane amount of television as a kid

Any kind of will or identity

is not an option for me right now

But I didn’t think I had a “drinking problem”

And then something like this comes along

to change the course of the current hostilities

They telephoned their cult headquarters

to announce a bunch of creepy weirdness

riddled with dreams and astrology

I desperately asked my dad to build a fallout shelter

He said he’d do it later

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