briano alliano at saturn club rings


hi dudes and welcome to my show, the first song is born to PARTY

you see i was born to PARTY, on a sarturday night

i don’t care what the oldies say, i will just party anyway

you see i have a reason, everything is going well



so i will just party hardy, yeah i feel so cool

i want to be like the young dudes of this land

and get into the party spirit every way i can

i don’t really need a reason, no, i am cool anyway

you see i was born to party, so i will do it anyway

i will sink into the ground man, wearing high heel shoes

i will go to my mates house, with dreams of moving in

he was a bit mental, as he couldn’t understand

that i was born to party, and that is what i do

you see we will grab a methane and squirt it everywhere

and then grab a beer or two, yeah that is quite yobboish

you see we get drunk which means we are high on life

every day of the yeah, so we were born to party

like the young dudes do, ya see don’t spike my drink, man

i am too cool for you, you see i have a point in life, to never

unattend my drink, you see i know the tablet will make you drowsy

so he could kidnap you, bu i am too cool for that

you see i was born to party, and that is what i do

i was born to party, fun for me and you

hi dudes and now here is rock the party

you see i feel like i am having fun rock the party rock the party

i wanna party while the night is young, rock the party rock the party

i cheer for the ACT brumbies, well, they lost well, they lost

you see the bar is a open a open a open, and the party is turning on all the party going dudes

and the beer is selling quickly along with the gassy methane, man

ready to tip the methane on us, man, we will party

you see i saw a house which was great, and my mate wanted me to move in

so i thought about it, it’ll be fun to party, fun to party fun to party on

moving on up and moving on down and marilyin monroe put on a broadway show on neptune so cool

then sam kinison sang wild thing, and i liked his add lib, you know my heart is longing for you dude

making you wanna scream, rock the party rock the party

then i ate some cheese and bacon *****, and gusted them down with coke

the party started to form in my mouth and making me feel so cool

before i went to sleep i listened to kiss, bon jovi and a broadway show, called spiderman

and i ate mars bars and drink juice, yeah that sounds so radical

saturday night is the night to rock the party rock the party

and i opened a keg of methane and tipped it all over adam walsh and brett

to improve the quality of the olsen twins, to make them PARTY again

so really we are getting into a great rock the party rock the party

and we’ll party all saturday night long

hi dudes and now here is another tune called my life is a stinker

you see last night i was wondering why i haven’t performed on stage

could it be that i was too **** shy, or was it i was just not ready

i really want it all so ****** much, to show the world how to party party

but this is how i just relax, and let my life pass me by

you see my life is a stinker, every day and night

i want to party, but it’s a secret just between you and me

you see i spend my money on fun and games, mainly done with alcohol

i buy my girl some raggedy old fashioned sort or doll

she yelled at me from 10 to 10, it was hard for me to cope

and the only way to get past this, is switch on the TV to hear the pope

my life is a stinker, every day and night, i wish you would leave me alone, please mate yeah alright

ooooooh cosmos

my way of entertainment is the poetry slam, and bad slam no biscuit yeah

i entertain everyone oh yeah, i shake their ****** boogie, yes my dear

then my name is called and i enter the stage and slam

my poetry like it’s a good thing, dude, every day and night

my life is a stinker, every day and night

you see we will party hardy every night, no i say no to fights

cause my life is a stinker, take me away from the psych ward

that isn’t the place for me, i am too nice for that place

hi dudes, and here is another song called fly burgers

fly burgers are good enough to eat

fly burgers are such a tasty treat

just catch a blowie between two buttered buns

add some lettuce and tomato and have so much fun

now at the footy, the flies are cooking on the plate

they are saying, momma, you are stopping up too late

just catch a well cooked blowie, and throw him in the bowl

where you have the burger mix, yeah that is so cold

fly burgers, are good enough to eat

fly burgers, are such a tasty treat

just catch a blowie between two buttered buns

add some lettuce and tomato

and have so much fun

in a restaurant a fly comes in and parks on the griller

you feel like honking like dharma’s old yeller

but instead you get two buttered buns and lettuce and tomato

get the fly and serve him up, tasty as gelato

fly burgers are good enough to eat

fly burgers are such a tasty treat

just catch a blowie between two buttered buns

add some lettuce and tomato’'

and have so much fun

in the summer friends drop round to enjoy the atmosphere

some bring coke some bring wine

and most of them brought beer

the bbq man noticed a fly upon his back

he gets the fly and serves him up, OH HERE JACK

fly burgers, are good enough to eat

fly burgers are such a tasty treat

just catch a blowie between two buttered buns

add some lettuce and tomato

and have so much fun

the hospital has been busy this year since fly burgers were on the menu

people say fly burgers put germs right in you

an old man and a young boy, both died of food poisoning

but nobody knows if it was the fly burgers that did them in

fly burgers are good enough to eat

fly burgers are such a tasty treat

just catch a blowie between two buttered buns

add some lettuce and tomato, my dray

and have some and have so and have so much fun

hi dudes, this is a song called i am a family party dude

i am a family person who is looking everywhere for a party

at the club on grand final daY, and on poetry slam day

where we yell out bad slam no biscuit bad slam no biscuit

all the ****** day, we could be celebrating your daughters graduation

from a school she so adored

then we drag out the old songs, and the young dudes get bored

you see partying is so much fun, no matter how hard you try

you see you try and be a fun loving guy like who really loves to p a r t y

oooh, i wanna rock and roll all night, and party every day

how much coffee do you drink to whisk the hangover away

i used to go to the blind beggars inn, to really let my hair down

now, i party at home with youtube, yeah that sounds so rad

you see i am a family party dude, who wants to have some fun

i want music and sport, yeah alrighty, that sounds like my type of fun

cool man, cool you, i say cool me, i am a family party dude

the man of the party is here, last night i went to the club to watch the brumbies they lost i won

the chance to go home and party in front of youtube, with bon jovi and kiss as well as spiderman the musical, pretty rad

then i fell asleep on the couch, ready to come to you, and show you how to party hardy, yeah that is true blue

hey true blue, don’t say the party’s over, just because you go home, doesn’t mean you can’t party

you see i used to go to night clubs and swing with the cool dudes there, hey true blue

you see i am a family party dude, i party everywhere

i am getting younger by the minute, and i still love life, so party on dudes, no fear

i get up late on sunday morning, after this great party in the stars

and after this, i will go to jupiter and neptune to muck around in bars

tipping methane all over everyone, yeah that sounds radical dude

PARTY PARTY PARTY on saturday night, yeah i am so cool

cool you, yeah cool me, the coolest dude of the cosmic realm

ready to party yeah we will

Grodey gassy bubble flow
Up to the surface, now it is known
That here did relinquish fish
A gripping odor Atlantic
I sniff'ed the breathe of that pungent fish ***
I chok'ed and gripped for the head of the mast
But when it came too far in I couldn't have last
Expired by breathe of that frightful fish gas

The greatness of Nature cannot be denied.
Her grandeur is plain for all to see.
Such sheer determination can only be admired.
See that tiny ***** on yonder rock face:
Some miniature plant has taken hold
Where nothing else could live.

We know that Mother Nature rules the Earth.
But what about the stars?
Billions of exoplanets wave at me
In my mind’s eye.
For life right here can thrive in boiling acid
And solid sheets of ice.

What scope for life is there out there,
Amongst the swirling galaxies
And gassy nebulae?
I tell you now:
There’s almost ENDLESS Opportunity
For life to evolve
Around this Universe
Alone.

Yes, she’s much, much more than “Mother Earth”:
More “Mother Multiverse”.
Mother Nature multiplied a million, million times.
Imagine That.

Paul Butters

There might have been a time
When I wasn’t full of fear so topped off
Like a gassy sombrero
like a burrito left in the
Sun to bake and there might have
Been a
Time
When I hadn’t yet eaten a burrito
landlocked
In New England, locked in a small state of
Fear and knowing that knowing
just isn’t
Enough.
There might have
Been
A time when luxury was a nickel
apiece paperback
Book at the Unitarian Church fall sale
to raise funds for
Their roof.
To raise their
Roof.
And there
Might
Have been a joy in my spark
Plugs,
A joy
In my canter
A Joy in
My legs that preceded my
Fears.
There might
Have
Been a time:
When I would pick one of the seven records we owned
And delicately put it on the turntable, thinking I will
Have my own money and
buy my own music.
When I idly lift the leaded paint
from the 200 year old wood
And scratch it to smell its sweet aroma.
And put my hand on the glass pane
Think hard enough and open your eyes and it will be
1838 again.
Oh where are the people?
Oh where
when there might have been a time
Did I not see who they are?
Or they did not register.
I must have watched them everyday
Observant
so keen to be seen
Is it possible to feel so much
for feeling so little?
Or did I feel gulfs of embrace
that were not there?
I wanted and I desired and I dug.
I craved and thought and speculated
and clung.
And there might have
Been
A time when I roared on my Schwinn down the long empty
Roads of my town.
Invoking our gods.
Invoking my claims.
There was a time when I stuttered with
Compassion and could
feel a touch observed
There was a time:
Across the street in a
lit house at dusk.
Their curtains are open, their lights are on.
Oh, the sun has settled down
There is that time, golden, when I
Look into your kitchen, and the wallpaper is
Blue and harvest gold with small pictures of oil lamps on
Them and your walls are mustard gold.
Your plates are unbreakable
I see them lustre in the
Overhead light, fashioned like a wagon wheel.
Guns ablazin’.
Trails awash.
There might be a time when I can slip back
Into your kitchen
lick the plates and then
Run my fingers over
the wall paper.
Tracing the outline of the oil
lamps imprinted.

Can’t wait to be seventy
With knees that hang
Like fleshy skin tags
Over my knee highs
And Custard feet
All squelched into my Clarks.

No prunes
In my grocery basket
Just lots of cheese
Chocolate and beer
Which will make me gassy
So I’ll ask for a backrub
To get my wind up.

I’ll say those things
I’ve always wanted to say
And not come off
Like a social landmine
Because people will just think
I’m batty.

They’ll smile
And nod
And make corkscrew gestures
Behind my back
But I won’t care.

I shall say
**** a lot
Because people
Will not expect that
From a portly granny
With a blue rinse.
But I shall never be unkind
Of all of the ugly words
You can use
**** is probably
The most benign.

I shall read great books
Filled with ideas
And speak to the deaf geriatrics
In the old folks home
And say things like-
So what did you think of that?
And even as they
Clutch their hearts
To prepare for their exit
From this world
I shall say-
I feel that strongly too
And in this way
Everything shall
Be part of my interlude
It shall all be about me
Me
Me
Me

Went to film school, want to be a filmmaker still
My dream unfulfilled, but still unfolding
I look at what used to inspire me: magazine articles about
the great directors.  always male. even today.  I used to want
to be the female version.  Not anymore

The New Yorker has a piece on one
Describes the process: a demanding scene where
Julia Roberts walks down a street and then gives a LOOK
This is not drama.  drama is conflict.  the new yorker doesn't know this
describes the making of "art" as the shot is repeated with different LOOKS
It's all taken so seriously: a large photo of the ARTIST on the facing page
He has four o-clock shadow times a few days.  this is the look of a filmmaker
you will see it in the second half of the semester at any film school
and he looks worried, intense, confused...gassy?  artists are never happy
is life a pretty picture?  the artist knows this and cannot, will not smile

Later, "the Brille Building," in New York.  wow.  a building with a name no less
a building where many films are edited, have been edited over the years.  
a sweatshop for editors of picture and sound, and a place for the director
to continue, now out of the shadow of the STAR

He's using a lot of profanity now. Just because he's an old white geek don't think
for a minute he ain't kool, he ain't street.
Actually, go ahead and keep thinking that, because you're right
Amazingly enough, he, from his heights of artistry, is slumming it with take-out
Oh, the dedication.  Oh, the fear of ever leaving the building and being reminded
there is a whole world outside that doesn't care about you

His brother is the editor (no, don't say there is nepotism in this business, it's your imagination)
They review the shots of THE LOOK
There are many takes and now, this director who adapted someone else's novel
to the screen now claims, he wrote it.  Really.  It is all his.  

Yes I still love making films but I've never loved the biz
And as I get older, the more I think that real artists don't get written up
in the New Yorker with such verve because they'd think it was just too silly

Stomach ulcers wait for me
acid reflux looms
Bloated Belly
Backend bother
Doctors waiting rooms.

And still I wolf down whiskey
and guzzle gassy stout
and wake at dawn
a can in hand
in the middle of a roundabout.

For whats the point of living
if living is a chore
some love life without drinking
I find I enjoy it more.

the party to welcome colleen mcCullough and kel nagle to the cosmos


yes, the party has started when aw good golfer and friendly person passes away

yeah, he departs earth with a big PARTY, up on the planet os SATURN

with slim dusty sings i love to have a methane with old kel, here

i love to tip methane on him

we’ll drink in moderation, and we’ll burn the suffering out of him

you see, we drink in the town and country, and PARTY with methane, oh yeah

i love to have a nice methane with kel nagle, cause he is our pal

and then sam kinison yelled out WILD THING, OH YEAH LET’S PARTY

you make my heart come right out of my body, and into my lap

you dark and despicable wild thing

and, payne stewart, got a meteorite, and gave it to kel saying, your my inspiration

then scott mcdonald came up to kel and said, come with me, i’ll show you round the after life

ready to have a bottler PARTY for once and for all

and kel picked up some methane and tipped it on himself saying, i am now one of you

then the door bell rings and who can it be, and barry allan answers the door, and it is

colleen McCullough, the author of the thorn birds enters saying welcome everyone

i am the great colleen mcCullough, and i just ended my stint on earth

so i can calm the spirit of ronnie biggs and osama bin laden

and she said to brian allan, yes, it’s great you don’t want to have any scandals in stardom

but brian allan, you are popular on youtube, and you do acting  in canberra

and you entertain in poetry slams, dude, ok and don’t stress about hollywood, listen to your father, buddy

then colleen released paul berenyi and said, you leave the after life ALONE osama and biggs

and go straight to fucken hell, ok, because i am about to go into work to

keep my spirit running into my next life, to fight this wart on terror, it’s a hard battle

i died of natural causes, but, terrorists, really are ruining mother earth, ok

so we need all religions to come together to fight on this war, fight on this war on terror

and colleen mcCullough, guarded paul and all the others from stupid osama ghost laden

so kel angle and colleen mcCullough took each others hands and danced to

pardon me boys, it’s the chattanooga chop chop toot toot

you see it’s party down in party town

so pardon me boys, it’s the chattanooga chop chop, yeah yeah

we’ll party on till our rebirth oh yeah

and then sang the big hit called ain’t she sweet

see her coming down the street, i ask her very confidentially ain’t she sweet

ain’t she nice, look her over once or twice, i ask you very confidentially ain’t she nice

just cast an eye, in her direction, oh me oh my ain’t this perfection, i repeat

i repeat, don’t you think this is kinda neat, i ask you very confidentially ain’t she nice

pardon me boys, it’s the chattanooga choo choo, oh yeah

come on dudes, swing this party right, come on ya dudes

it’s the chattanooga chop chop, oh yeah, come on

and this train is heading to our new home on neptune, till our earth bodies, get reborn

slim yells out i would love to have a beer with kel and colleen, cause they were our famous mates

and welcome to the afterlife, enjoy ya stay here, in preparing for your next life,

WE ALL HOPE IT GOES WELL

brian allan as cronus said as he places a piece of green gassy methane on kel and colleen

saying

HOPE YOU RELAX, TO MAKE YOUR NEXT LIFE VERY FRUITFUL, DUDES

and kel ended up hitting a hole in one from saturn to the point in neptune

and it reached that point in neptune in one hit, COOL MAN

I remember the way it smelled
when I first would enter

Bust it wide open
from the front back and center

The more I stroke
the more I see
the gassy funk
from your *****

so soft
so moist
but you have no choice
the vaginitis
sings from your ******
like a beautiful voice

Gassy stomach churns
Able to spend short leave home
The volume displaced from my system
Time to retire on a pension



Low price the real trouble
The incidence of  common occurrence
Ordinarily people stated by their lives
But to which end



Their  day’s job played like tennis
With rifts,  little jealousies here and there
Good decent , normal people
Involved in unusual contingencies

Eyelash blinkered in hubris Rubik’s knight
Elevation of pogrom ennobled by triaged triumph minus the cynic summation of all light
Littoral swank bronzed like starlet fantasia with a Carey mountaintop jeer
Reichstag extinguished blaring sirens of cacophony capers to benumbed Linkin Park cheer
Knells intrepid by quakes of remonstrance staged in histrionic applause
Southern Colonies shifting in Charleston surgical in orderly slugabed dogged laws
Slipshod through ribbacles of rengall zenkidu among the sertivine poison ivy
Grimace at gamboled rivulets of a moribund Vanilla Sky for departed wiseacres of savvy dicey ICE toxic Harvey Dent slimy
A mannequin Marx Ralph alienated the truest alien by pioneering disdain of a hostage giraffe summiting a Swiss Alp
Master of time 12th bradycardia for Generator design parked beneath escarpments of base aphasia milquetoast in killjoy Strickland nickels away from a gubbertushed mouth
LOST legend enunciating the furor of epochs of egalitarian traipse
Trapped by the bootlick of a wrinkle of Van Winkle revolutionary agape
Curved by soliliquy master of belletrist prose
The vogue can’t help but bunt, balk, denounce the remembrance of Lady Madonna pose
We beat the muckrakers of rummaged lisp of culinary suns that the sons of privilege are emoluments to apolaustic zeal first known to transmogrified nuns, before the poppies made the few into many and the notion of an insuperable line of infinity into a spherical nullification of the concept of none
Estrapade engorges the fustilug magnet of the kitsch Kenosha Chicago Demolition drive-by-derbies “once read”
That two kings one Titanic by skin-color dashed dreams the other both the coins of tails eloped with heady dreams of head
Sacrifice shadow dancing with pettifoggery in slumps of aboriginal dances of marsupial rice
Native to extortion gouged blind as Samson exacts lachrymose cremations of Pikes Peak trick-or-treat aghast with fright
Temples raised in 46 years cemented never in the Mumbo Jumbo politics of those lacking the oceanic schadenfreude among queers
That by their exclusion the panmixia of fluid alchemy is dauntless scrabble limited by NORAD notions of Tears for Fears
Henpecked rooster awakens the serfdom of Ronald’s (sly spy) Drugs sailing with dovetails of elapse downtrodden in modern clubs
Drunken *** addict sell-out charlatans berated  by Ingram Angles sent by maleficence are the grubhub of Harriet Tubman torching promising tapestries with rugged rugs
Slinging the bait of fish-hook dimples on freckled effigies of ****** humiliation outmantled by Mickey weight
I thunder a fulgurant explosion against recrimination of white-collar criminals that philander saturnalia in pretense with facetious swarpollock freight
Crooks of tyranny exhort the paranoiacs of indemnity to sunken canned soup applause of a Warhol extortion
Berating my audience with drooling slavers of inelegant tortoise byzantine like an Istanbul dredged with intortion
Mr Deeds is not a champion of BRE Properties nor the pinnacles of inertia, a psychiatric squeeze
My orange juice is not a car chase against treecheese in terminal punitive disease
Soaring with the prosperous tongue against the walloped nativism of pounced impounds having too much fun
I let the other guardians of the order of salvation pivot vitriol in loaded dice against Orangutans of Swedish minted gum
Caesar died for the seizure of Anglican pride of a namesake percolating millenia for Brutus in the Washington Bullets of a conquered Ottawa on strike carnal with Chauvinism in regional divide
Never has there been a more hollow trope than the agency of deep state defamation of a scurrilous backbite of gnashing pride
Lost to pollster tricks of acquiescence and caricatures of a menacing personage Swift on the Riff but never the snarling Menace of a Blondie Biff
I tower above the anthills of conformity of luxury in Jamaican Bob Sled Teams testing the curiosity of enlightened “What Ifs”
Canada Dry for striking people enthused by Rye abides in the memory of reform that skulks the skunks that make every Scudworth cry
Because a Dental Dam damsel living in streets of peril fascinated by distance is the contortion of entreaty in the pasquinade of attempts at American Pie
May the city of a figurative crucifixion burn with the irony of a thousand suns as Wendy’s burgers unload on prejudice with albatrosses of winsome puns
Fixed data interpolated by convenient lies of serial killers who aim for blue skies shanked in Oswald infamy for the imposture of any flashbang revenge against cinematic guns
I blacklist the Zemeckis villainy as a trudge of travesty
Hedged lies blinkered by Batman and Robin puns redeemed by Dinosaurs of Amnesty
Obviously belittled by futures etched by a more honest infinity
Because 88 keys are not a stroke because the infinite bees know the parlance of divinity
Invited lissome taxidermies of Capone against teetotalers of parvanimity of vainglory overthrown
Showers the honest hominist reckoning of a world where neither crudity of know-nothing radical polarization owns every inept baritone
Crusading a secular war because the gubbertushed eccedentesiast spinsters of Santa Cruz deserve a gassy overtone
Torch the SC Pacific Avenue for peace
Let the world unite behind a singularity with purpose in ventilation of Speedman’s release
That antithetical Jacks of many names are wed with the progeny of enduring lists of NSA protection rather than rentgourge Denver PD eager to chaos decimated by the decimals of a region forever boycott and impeached
To the decisive curling of the frolicked Abandoned Pool servitude crass disasters are the sheol of impudent flagrant overreach
Regnant on the turmoil of invented throne
I scowl at the chicanery of Capone’s Chicago sweltering with Kenosha infamy tossing contortionist strippers a vulcanized bone in a DIA Diamond that even 11,500 years of knowledge is surpassed in condemnation of screaming E.T. calling the right home
Speak Now because the reach of forever is God appeased not by a kowtow but a mobilized ambition for Why? When? And How?
History will remember gentility as the kind steward rather than a Disco Demolition Derby of urbacity venerating a seasonal Golden Cow
Hipsters flock with folly to South African extortion for freebooters who bootlick the aceldama of war against the sublime currency of a winner surrounded by thugs
TOO MANY URBAN KIDS ARE TAUGHT BY REDUCTIVE TAUTOLOGY TO HATE The United States of America RATHER THAN NURTURING SYNCRETISM IN PATRIOTIC HUGS
Imperfect in design with disagreement in plainest sight
Sometimes libertarianism with a Democratic twinge is clearly in the right that should believe in reform even when the footloose girouettism is too tight
Yet forestalled for authentic grit the grisly rentgourge of venal abysses knows the countermand against Rand with hyperboles of the clearest *******
The true flock congregates around scepters built not with militant graft but a promenade of sultry dance for the defiant C.L.I.T.
Exercise with the Rock knowing school buses of dogmatism inferior are distraught
Dying dogmatism is a peacock of industry the yeggs can easily unlock rather than truckle with truculent Scottish Rites tasty with Connery Scotch
Defenders of the misleading staircase because of the carapace of Hovering pertinacity easily won and bought
Neither scary nor deliberate streets are rumpus of elevations of unbounded anarchy considerate but robbed by the illiterate
That the delegated mansion will be robbed by the cooperation of the remorseful idiot recognizing his snide mendaciloquence in destructive Roswell Records limerick
Scowls are on petrol and patrol hoping Tesla is a short of bravado too intrepid to sanction free-for-all profligacy in alleys that bowl
To the Emerald Street lie of hypes of perdition rather than merely a seasonal token embarrassment coal
The fossilized future is the irrevocable past because more respect is needed than the ***** of a maskirovka caste
Diamond Lightning in Bhagavad Gita prancing with the delusion of the everlasting mummification of Brawndo ash
Dinner with Egyptsy malingers on tomes etched flippant in integrity and all about the curated snare of kitsch cash
The cache valley of LASER tag shattered like Joseph Smith flagellating the confederate hayday with articulate gnash
Fast & Furious the amused by Suburban subway know the trailblazer trashes of The Stupids’ being Einstein about Boogie Dubs rather rash
Streaking through a Tucker rule the Buccaneers live for the SoulSeek of a riddled ruler benighted of prerogative of Roger Goodell bumping in his Ferrari the tucked serenade of Tool
Wrong band because they linger in the shadow dancing backpages of scandals of Norweigan hourglasses of shameful hush hush Vikings mining furloughs of pulverized anticipation sand
Humbled retinue shelves the ossified limpid droll drool
As the haze of submarines scouting pridefall galls of indolence betraying innocence becomes moral cigarettes of Menthol Kool
Reparations for chappy chapstick games of bowery riches
The urbane needs to read, discern and maneuver against whiplash found in Navi witches
Swapping homes with crack addict legalese an *** to a bronzed party crackling with cackles Home Alone
Knows a toiletry of escape gullible like Seahawks wishing they could contain a fumbled season by Mahomes
Jones methamphetamine paranoiac manure desiccated by folksy homilies of brimstone cremation deserts his flock to abide by a flagging wayward temptress
Decimated by the agency of time his Austin crenellation flounders in grimace of the untimely swoon his covert empress
Blinded by the light of darkness in subversion
Excoriated for the deeds of his permission to demote commotion into only an acquiescent dance with barbed etch-a-sketch conclusion- a half-baked *******
Quacksalver poetaster wrinkled with hatred simpering paranoia strangled by Hendrix abeyance of turgid delusion
Lurid underground Princeton gilds infested with defected dementia in cozens in the fritty of heralded mistress SHE appointed
Sandlot ravens cloistered the bravado of thirst for chosen words scrappy in clawed henpecks the pointless illegal sanctioned to brusque witticism anointed
Lamps of pathway sparkle with coruscated stargazer Winslet dreamy swank illustrious by providence
Engrenage of delopes of pettifoggery identity staggers the woozy dismal day of disjointed wounds on Native sons Denver can’t damage in a lonely campaign for the prodigal bends of Overlook Lorraine Motel bent
Intrepid in gallantry I swoop the scrivello tusked with might
Penetrating the vivid dreams of the serenade of alpenglow daylight
That love might rule over chance and probability above the specter of dynasty prodigy progeny tithing gravity in rent
Yet this taper of majestic poise will outfox even the careless gambles of the prodigal son Mr Sender already traipsed conquered and went
The mountaintop is so clear from the cloister of authenticity drinking Eminence Front of the WHO rather than the coherence of the near
Because titans shepherd the good flock without insult and not quavering with insuperable time flackey with tremulous fear
I dare this day to outlast benighted ignorance of the narrow gate of a persecution tsunami on a Lisbon tear
Because galloping ahead of the internecine sheds the serpentine craft of 3:1 Genesis met with the worst fleeced fleer
Not auctioned off like ******* vogue to the disfavor of poor taste
I am the true Royal Flush that can always count on the aced basic but mostly acidic flourish of a jest in bass predicated on the basis for Mozart pH
Today could be the summit of acclimated prodigy in startled degrees temerity could never bet against
Because you better bet the Bros and Cos of civilization are skilled in ostentation of Sterling Pound defense
Never offensive to the liturgy of triumph beckoning an apocalypse now tentative memory on a Manifest Destiny frontier rarely on wickers of extinguished cattle ranchers knowing the gamut of acumen to defend a fortress with the best fencing James Bond could dispense
Now is either a cordial joke of a flagrant anarchy balking at destiny
Or the sunrise majesty of the twelve tribes and beyond defeating the stingy bees of infamy
Your choice doesn’t defeat my voice
But your action heralds my loyalty with a triumphant Victoria of an age not for agelast geeks intimidated but living clairvoyance with fidelity to the right choice for the right time to swim in elegant rejoice
(1977 Words)

As you inhale
So do I
But not in the same way
You inhale to drown yourself in the feeling of love
It courses through your veins
And camps In your lungs
Engulfing your heart
And as you exhale  
Your release your love in a cloud of smoke
I hold my breath
Trying not to breath it in
Scared of the long lasting affect
Trying to protect my health
You inhale and exhale again
You step towards me
Expelling smoke from your mouth  
Your love in the air
I take a step back
The gassy odor stains my clothes
Seeps into my skin
Chopping my breathing as it chokes me
Your eager to take another inhale
To breath it in
I'm just afraid of the second hand smoke

I must be overheating,
cause my air tubes are filled with steam.
My movement cogs are rattling,
awkwardly, clashing joints screech.

There is combustion in the oiled pits,
which catch fire all to quick,
and boils stomach grease
and releases gassy silage.

The gas seeps out the crevices
and pollutes the wholesome air.
Poison in and out,
hot smog--a warning sign.

I must be overheating,
as a mechanic rushes toward me.
He wets me with his coolant,
and cools me with his sweat.

They loved the black day of the highest honor to the women of life untied with the light of the damsel that is white, the state of the city,
the red, in that night the eyes of men to the girl with a great body; children as young as the back of the music of an empty place, naked, the naked, the dark pastures of the hot water, the head of the head, the color of a great Dictyostelium of the Latin Mass is dead; of things, the true blood of the three-stars of the work of American Hair Brown, Gold working power of the sun, As Arthur's money History Standard Yellow Changed to Glory one Marmouth cold morning. Big queen Alimentary Greek as Go gassy ******* boy. Future English form of John Asian blue wife Sky Spirit art defecated; dog Baloo Europe **** Russian Snooch goddess Jesus, hell; it's July, Julius. Gold woman, food, house, friends; paradise's problem is French for my brain thinking. Young Six Small Six State Handheld Known Aksa ******* mompless; babies without the loud call of the street full year round, the radio heats the book of photo of old it's not sacred glass, wrote one Russian day of a man writing, however, In the air it is difficult to be ventilated; bedroom poetr'sy shadow of a young father died Monday in the south and hR reads it as a payday, the son is thinking, Christ, the brutal Igor Robot's Robot's Better Science Voice of a Christian Action Lamb, Nature freikin' a dark gray color, unknown to the fast talk of the crowd of friends, choosing sweet care, hell's mouth opened in the floor, door listened to this song, daughter's paradise action falling lapse, walking fingers ***** tranquility and peace advanced color science's hot secrets but the poet, crazy ******, ******, dark glass kissed hell's field of the mountain language of the window feeling Einstein's center; feeling Gods reef Park playing invisible Museum soccer season. Asian smoking clock game and it was a vitamin weapon. Ask animal ***** and bad news motion. Sock's mother's mother's Brain mother Unknown. Medusa states Caiiadas' lips and legs were asleep; fairy boy Barbky started mind meds. I began to turn to the start-up curve of the Table arc's alchemy, the waves of the church of the people of modern times Laminate help of the help of the stripper drinks Bettie knows the words of the scripture, that of the stall, wet at the top of the mountain and all but the sum of the pain of the knowledge of the social climb and B. the computer went down and started, started 1000 the middle of the hill-country and in the plains, and the reason for Paul's glories, for the test of silver, the soul, the king of the shore of the Maori to us, the lights of Germany, the top of the natural, once there was a *******, prostitutes in his residential area; the area of ​​the furnace smoke triggers changes in the fat [feliseget] of the baby emperor; he wanted a wall of teeth for the flute of engines, that type of design, the sister of the sister for saving the jewels and gold from the sand; and the sand's odor of abstraction of the Machine is blind, burning with a star in the marriage of China, the China of the devil for the world, just sort of slips, and brakes his country of fish and they bow and thank Mary the mother of Ignition he got home averting his face from the world, the glory of The sedition of the house of a woman in torment; he may feel that a shadow of the love of the rain is Tense, the food of pumice rock, but in her thin drawers the daughter of the least of them that the ****** had; Laura had his eyes staring at the morning star, the room is my dad's right out of the evils of the green foot, foot to foot of the foot being turned he put up a great salvation, turned the Red red, purple silk into cotton. Judge: four blocks. In fact, Iran, among many other species are most difficult to solve, and you can write that to yours or my friends but the problem is the fourth button. In the future, 200 joint investments in the United States, 200 million US Catholics died. It's not at the same time, announced a boycott and the beasts of the George George tells the story and not the carrot. Of which is a fable concocted by the robot, to read the story, it said. The device that was badly burned by fire. This cannot be here to do this, there was a developer in the mix. Einstein's Aria Mother Angelica [Vnltnre] Vietnamese Vietnamese Vietnamese Thief Thief; Tomorrow are Laura's moments, but they're friends in different ways but the [200] line of 200 Numbers Last until www.mvd.kg peace and the United States, Canada and oil's last four F's. Women in love with the court system are in love with love. India and Taiwan left the hospital. Music, music and other US fees at 20:00.      It's good for the city. Here's the water. Bateswana Bates & Health - Many groups in the United States. USA, Kenya and Honduras. Green, green, green and green. Americans and four books, especially in the United States but in the United States, can we say the five. First, the Zemeylands Republic of Tyusten lives in the city. Here is music, music and dance. UN, UN publications, rocks and trees. I cannot 1300 years. I said to him, "The Jews are the adults in the United States, Kenya and the restroom, and abroad," he said. One of the first places in that time was one of the colors and shapes. The issue of Iran's problem was different from working, but in South America. The company was established in May 1993. "This company is responsible for the mountains, mountains and red, four or five names." History, culture, education and culture, in Kenya and Italy: $ 200,000 Italian Italians of the Islamic Supreme Court of the United States of America, Australia, Austria. The ACA was founded in 1300, with families. Everyday, in the end, the United States, Japan, Kenya says that the community can be very successful. Green, red, red, green and four important friends, some good but many in the world, many South American countries, from Katie girls in Italy because they know Vitamins and Ymbarl's Corn Canada uses color A. The auction is the amount. Black, Blue, Red, Pink and Red. In addition there are four employees. It's hard to see how the image is wrong.
                                                You are wrong.

I would re-name the planets after galaxies in your eyes.
The stars finally know what it feels like to burn with envy.
There are constellations tracing the soft skin of your back.
Following dips and curves, I would draw maps with *******
of everything that matters.

Freshman science taught us about untouched miracles;
and just like that-
the ultraviolet cosmic phenomenon
fixed us to spiral arms in far-away planetary
nebulas, like the ringed Cat’s Eye.

The milky skies whispered
so that only we could hear,
"Heaven's dust will fall"
You feared last night you could hear the earth
cracking under the weight of the universe,

paralyzed with a crippling guilt
you'll only see the stars after they've died.
Neighboring nova would spectate
our telescopic wavelengths-
needing the prisms to reflect on

our kaleidoscope refractions.
No matter the efforts of a tangible spectrum,
one could never quite touch our frequency.
Between lazy and lively,
our whitecap love remained visibly invisible.  

Our infrared vessel to space, raced clusters of runaway stars
past post-distant intergalactic bodies,
shooting through beasts, astrologies, gods.
We window shopped stellar bursts of dust clouds
above our clouds, a gravity shelter.

Meteors became our faithful companions
glowing gassy flowers of dusty debris.
The pressure (we couldn’t touch) generates combustion;
atoms gazing psychedelic pinks, greens,
soothing tones of aquamarines.

Ever since then you've been the glittering
black hole, heaving me in.
The only thing I’m able to taste is  
the way your luminous Milky Way kiss
gives gifts of halos to terrestrial light rays.

But the flavor of your lips are the
battalions inspiring the star shining front lines-
Integrity a marathon taking laps
to the moon
to Pluto and back, the long way.

Blizzards of stars rewrite our language
in the moon beams,
guiding us past lost letters to Pluto.
How do you sleep among dancing stars
while the rest of the universe watches?

I made my home in your eyes
and you made your home in the sky.

There is a place where you can find everything except what you are looking for

We have snacks that will make you gassy for your first date

CD players that only skip when the song you love comes on

Seeds that grow into roses that smell lovely only when you are in too much of a hurry to appreciate their perfume

We have the book that comes next after the one you can’t find time to read

A brand of cola that will give you hiccups everytime

A box of stale Life on sale for just three cents more than you have on you

This is the one and only Inconvenience Store

Never closed, you’re always welcome but the

Coupons expire right when you get to the door

We have the most delicious hot coffee that you will always spill

The local newspaper for a town you’ve never heard of

And the gallon of milk you were supposed to get but it expired yesterday

We used to have a poster of Murphy’s Law hanging on the wall

But the store burnt to the ground

We rebuilt it even bigger than before

Now people are calling it Life

But I still remember it as the Inconvenience Store

my old street,  
a perfect bicycle drag strip,
needed no gutters--all rains drained
into the bay  

but today,
the lane where
I learned to drive, is a place gulls dance
and killdeer prance

this river
is a dozen inches deep
at street’s end, but a yard and growing at the bay
where the hot dog stand once steamed  

the melting monsters
were a million miles from us, you know;
a threat to a Titanic, though  surely inconsequential
to the Atlantic, or so it seemed

all the hype about heat, carbon emissions,
ozone’s demise, and other gassy notions, we thought
belonged in tomorrow’s world of worry  

but tomorrow became today,
and now it’s commonplace to say,
"the shoreline receded--that neighborhood’s gone."    

a continent constricted,
a lowly inch a year, by greed or divine design?
retribution from an earth that never forgets?
or a fickle force we cannot fathom?  

I am ancient now, though I recall those admonitions,
ambiguities that fueled futile debate, until it was too late
and here I be, watching waters at low tide, lapping
against my feet on a once dry and driven street

I am always sick
Sleep deprived
From nightly drives
Midnight shifts
That I love

I am always sick
A little gassy but afraid
That it won’t be gas
That comes out that way

I am always sick
Tired of all the certainty
Righteous indignity
Self-proclaimed victimization
Of this white conservative nation

I am always sick
Of what my world can justify
How my people can swallow lies
No matter how hard I try
To inspire them to be better

I am always sick
With no end in sight
No angelic tunnel
No godly light
No hope for something more
Than this one life
One day I won’t be sick
But that will be the day I die

I've got these hands
bony, scarred, dried and cracked
and they can do great things
or so I'm told
but have you ever tried to
pick yourself up?
I mean really pick yourself up?
when you fall flat on your face
when you're **** out of luck
that requires a strength
I sadly do not possess
couldn't drag myself out of the mud
if I waited for it to freeze over
before I fell in

I've got these eyes
light brown, they're more of an amber
especially in bright light
gifted with sight and minor impairment
or so I'm told
I myself don't care to look at them
I can get lost in them though
for all the wrong reasons
but have you ever tried to
actually see yourself?
I mean really see yourself,
not the image manifested
instead, what you truly are?
I think I have but then again
I have a needed aptitude for deceit

I've got this heart
this heart that that beats
fast when I'm excited,
fast when I'm scared,
faster still when in love
and it's a big lump of muscle
or so I'm told
I guess it must be
I won't argue with that
it's heavy inside, that's a fact
but have you ever tried to
wear it on your sleeve?
the phrase is an idiom
I'll explain what it means;
to be overly sensitive or easily hurt
and have no control over emotions
or show them too readily for people to see
despite my deceit, my heart it still bleeds
that's the only reason to be careful
when you shake my hand

I've got this secret
this secret that eats its way through me
secrets are bad and we shouldn't keep them
yet everyone has secrets and we need them
or so I'm told
and I don't even know what mine is yet
though I suspect that it's that I'm sad
sad when I shouldn't be
lonely when I needn't be
but have you ever tried
to tell a secret and get it off your chest?
feel it come up from inside, make its way through you
and as it's about to come out just suddenly stop
as a gassy lump in your throat so you choke
as you swallow it down?
I have and I can tell you
it's not the taste that gets you
it's the texture

Hair nets and hand-me-downs,
Striped garb with strings
Wise men in scrubbing gowns,
Angels with wings

Pin ****** and pressure cuff,
Disarming chat
Face mask and gassy stuff,
Drugs by the vat

Dull aches like bicycles
Peddling up lanes,
Cold streaks like icicles
Rush through the veins,

Laid back and lazily
Watching the dance,
Head floating hazily
Into a trance

Woozily waking up,
Wobbly and drunk
Water to sip and sup,
Memories sunk

Balance returning when
Loved ones are phoned,
Recovery over, then
Time to go home

Two ducks diverged in a yellow pond,
And sorry I could not swim with both
And be one flamingo, on long legs I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent to underground blackmarket;
Then took the other, as just a carnival,
And having perhaps the better clam,
Because it was gassy and wanted to wear the newest trands (like those at your local hot topic);
Though as for that the passing out there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay with a stranger in your bed
In leaves no step had trodden black(not racist I swear).
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two ducks diverged in a pond, and I-
I took the one less swam by,
And that has made all the difference.
In my quest for world conquest.
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You sit across from me and
spit up garbled words like an infant,
you and your gassy smiles.

So I sit here, up late again,
and regurgitate them all on paper,
to get them out of my system.

Time and again
It's easy to see
first I do drugs
and then they do me

Because I say
I don't believe
in the devil there
is no real assurance
that he doesn't exist

When he's found out
 he's not getting his due
 My guess is that
 he's going to be ******

Santa
and
Satan
they be
making their list

I'll get
what's coming
my way
On this
he'll insist

A lump of coal
slung in a sock
and a wicked back hand
with a doubled up fist

Just enough rope
to hang myself
if you get my gist

expel my blood
in the bath after
I've slit my wrists

Full on boils and
***** oozing cysts
Gassy smelling vapour air
charcoal coloured mist

The  forked tongue
pushes out a steamy hiss
Master of many moves made
a charming guile hard to resist

Pre-paid passage
on the wretched raft
his water minions
pulling me out
to cross the Styx
  
You do drugs
then they do you
You know it in your heart
there is madness in the mix


So if you don't mind
I'll stand over there
while you keep six


© 2014

Can I stay in the woods
Just another day - another hour
To feel the breathing of the earth
To bear witness to these massive green lungs
These carbon giants drinking as one
Devouring the transgressions of their global environs
Such an immense task
Struggling and failing to stay before
Their numbers cleaved in half
In a scant one hundred years
Cut and razed and plowed and concreted
Supplanted by cities and roads and grazing lands
Growing wealth for some
Growing meat for some
What to do? What to do?
Can't grow a forest in a parking lot
Can't displace those gassy bovines
From the desert evolves the jungle
But we don't have another hundred years
For now I'll stay in the woods
Just another day - another hour
To feel the breathing of the earth
                                                RC

a kidney bean
once became lodged
deep inside
my ear canal
and i don’t think
i need to remind you
how a sweet polyp
like that
will sprout roots
among the white axons
grow throughout the squid
and drink in salvation
from the brainpan

god knows
i’ve tried what i can
even
turned to the
purgative artillery
strong medicine for sure
but
my throat muscles
only strained and expelled
a bulky stool
so gassy

and when
the shaman
sat atop me
with his covey of broken clam shells
scraped the flesh from back of
my neck

wouldn’t you know it
the beast only sneered
from the hole and spat

so i guess
i’m resigned now
to co-exist with my friend
and no
as you’ve gathered
it’s not a symbiosis

but i’ll get by

Stress
Comes up in gassy eruptions.
Over and over,
I belch like a rumbling volcano
While my neighbor's baby
Cries through the night.

Paralyzed by nerves,
I'm so...
not a hero.
Just took two pills
the side effect of which
should make me functional tomorrow.

The main effect should ease this gas-
The manifestation of so much decomposition.
My love of country
is in crisis.
How to avoid perpetuating
a negative cycle?

Like Mary Poppins,
I want to ride my Mary-go-round horse
Off into the sunset
My pupils
gleefully
galloping
with me.

I'm not singing.
But bumbling through.
How to keep afloat
amidst all this well written wisdom
and the variations in spelling
and the power of just telling?

Let alone lead them down a path
That is smooth,
because life is rough.
And rough,
because life is rough.
And honest,
but not despairing.

Fretting over tomorrow
Instead of seeing the top of the mountain
In the distance.

This is a great chance
To ride the wave.
But that nasty undercurrent
has got me.

I need to love my home
In all it's (only recent) diplomacy.

And tell the beginning of a new story
where relations
are just that.