its a blue Monday
after Super Sunday
Americas 45th funday
yesterdays spectacle

the dip is done
the broken bones
of buffalo wings
fill giant glad bags

the ridged ripples
of broken Doritos
scattered on the floor
wait for a vacuums hum

dead soldiers rattle
a melodious cascade
the aroma of flat Bud
plunge into recycle bins

ribbed Trojans
dripping bagged ****
rim plastic trash cans
confirm an ****'s frenzy

the game forgotten
commercial reveries remain
seared into the briney mush
of compliant olfactories

collective hallucinations
successfully branded
a new and improved
global consciousness

Madmen Shamans
ebulliently channel
transactional zeitgeists
from the ripped boxes of
Best Buy plasma screens

Monday morning
water cool scuttlebutt
the planet is buzzing about...

Google's cool slap
of IPod clad automatons
the vanquishers of IBM's evil empire
Apple's brave new world is next
("meet the new boss,
same as the old boss?")

we all dug
rolling with Eminem
through the glitzy
streets of Motown

How cool is 8 Mile?
The hoods lookin good
angelic chorus lifts spirits
Swing Low Sweet Chrysler

The artistic types
faun over
the graphic beauty
illustrious aestheticism

moving story line
the epic journey
of the worlds
greatest brand

heroic product marketing pros
rival Jason and the Argonauts
sojourning trans-formative odysseys
of clever packaging and fat tail shelf life

holding precious real estate
of living imaginations
infecting hearts and minds
of future generations

realizing
everything
ends better
with coke

The State Farm Pre-Game
Jimmy Johnson's new coiff
jawed away with his old boss
rattlesnake booted Jerry Jones

A poignant embrace captured in
living color on grand jumbo trons
lording over a cavernous palace
a new stadium for Homeboys

Jimmy J asks Jerry J
"Why you overpaid
for The Boys New
Crib?"

"A billion 4,
a palace for the masses".
Jerry breaks some news
with an impish wink.
"No expense is spared
for the peeps."

"I always make out,
get a good return. I
make a profit. Ain't
America great."

This year Super Bowl
went Hollywood
and installed
a long red carpet.

Mike Strahan, collared
Harrison Ford.
Bagging his greatest sack
on a dazzling red rug.

"How many Super Bowls
is this for you?"
Strahan whistles
through his gaped teeth.

The aging Indiana Jones
came to promote his new flick,
"Cowboys and Aliens"
(I'm told an early Cannes
favorite. And it should be. Spoiler alert,
the movie is a moving story of an American tragedy.
Romo blows another one
throwing an interception in overtime.
The Aliens return it 95 yards for a touchdown.
Boy's lose again. America's Team vanquished by bubble headed Martians.
All of Texas weeps.)

Indy
coolly quips an answer
whipping with sarcasm,
"after today, one."
yuck yuck
lol

Strahan continues
to stalk Ford like a
scrambling quarterback,
"where will you be sitting?"

Ford shrugs
"dunno,
somewhere
up-there,
I guess",
he points to
the lofty
luxury boxes.
Royalty sits
next to God
in Jerry Jones
house of the
people.

Ford dons a green scarf.
He's down with the Pack.
Another sunshine *****
in the seat.

Michael Douglas and Zeta Jones
arrive in time to hear
Keith Urban sing
"Who Wouldn't Want to be Me?"

"He's alive
He's free
Who wouldn't
want to be me?"

Indeed who?

The parade
of heroes
continue.

The walking,talking
little S Corp, LLC's
dance their way
into the stadium
on resplendent
cushions of red.

Terrific brands
all earnestly
questing to
urgently
deliver
messages
to promote
themselves
and plug
shameful
products.

A Black Eye Peas
teaser
blinks onto
my giant
flat screen.

Will I Am
a black man
in a blacker mask
marches down the street
zapping people
with a ray gun.
(fascist culture is so cool, a
little light on liberation,
but **** does he look bad as all get out
in that leather rumble don't **** with me
outfit)

Jamie Foxx on the royal carpet leaks
that he yodeled three tunes
at a pregame party for Jerry's Kids;
T Boone and the Big W among them.

Quick cut
to Jamie's
new movie
Rio.
(I wonder if its
about Mexicano's
crossing the river?)

Wealth
Power
the perfect
image of ourselves
take a pill

I am Limitless
a new movie?
I've seen this one before.
I think I'm watching it now.

Just Go With It
Adam *******,
Jennifer Aniston
Americas sweetheart
teamed with Americas
kosher jokester.

He looks hot
in his droopy
pretend
don't give a ****
orange sweatshirt
and acid washed jeans.

Jennifer's ****, legs
what can you say
about America's sweetheart?
I think Brad Pitt
made a big mistake.

Bill O
is next.
Posturing,
arm wrestles
with the Prez,
shadow boxes
with the Big O.

"Muslim Brotherhoods
Rendition
Mubarack goes off the reservation
knows where the bodies are buried"
***!
***!

(Do we really need a dose of Fox Fear?
Is there no escape from the pernicious harangue?
Don't they know its Super Bowl Sunday?)

Bill O's drive by continues,
"Obamacare,
why do Americans hate you?"
Great journalism by this Fox ****.

Bill O is
haughty,
arrogant,
disrespectful
a despicable bully
and a self serving blow hard.

(My bladder is busting.
Its a great time to take a ****.)

We escape to
the freshness
of Owen Wilson's
smiling face,
playing two hand touch.

His bent nose
shining
he trots about
Jerry's field
carefree as a child.
(Is this a pitch, pass and punt
contest for A Listers?)

Other stars
join the light fun;
goose cheerleaders
give the cabana boys
hand-jobs
and themselves
a well earned blow-job.

Its an **** of photo ops
product placement
a sizzling collection
of dancing brands
prancing on the gridiron
of the New Cowboy field.

Ashton Kutcher
peeks over the shoulder
of a tweeting W.
I'm impressed
W knew
how to use
his thumbs.

Mrs. W's
permanent smile
was clearly visible
from the stadiums
cheapest seats.

Condie sat
way to the right
quietly stewing
lamenting
lost opportunities
of a gig as NFL
Commissioner.

On the stadiums floor
the frenetic dancing
of the
bumping
brands
fast
approaches
ecstatic elation.

Hollywood's version of
Whirling Dervishes; is
immediately stilled
as the solemn portion
of the program
commences.

The Declaration of Independence
is read by a bright galaxy of stars
accompanying armed service personnel
and other diligent American's.

"We hold these truths
to be self evident"

"United colonies
levee war,
dissolve bounds,
our day of allegiance
lives, fortunes and sacred honor
freedom is common sense,
free, equal, united"

CEO's
imprisoned
in Jerry's
luxury boxes
overcome
with
emotion
pound fists
on the glass
smearing
cocktail sauce
on the windows
of the suites.

Illegal
Chicano's
bravely
step forward
with rolls
of Bravo
and Windex
to wipe
it clean.

The focal point
of festivities
seismically
shifts like a
tectonic plate
almost as large
as Jerry's Stadium.

The stampede
of cheers
thunder like
canon shots,
the patriotic
ramparts of
militant
free market
capitalism
supplants the
shallow frivolity
of consumer slavery.

We are
compelled
to kneel
to celebrate a
Eucharist of
nationalism.

My partner explodes,
"Can't watch a football game
and view it for what it is,
a ******* football game."

The Fox
broadcasters
dedicate
this segment
of the show
to our military.

I squirm in my seat.
Sorry,
but the declaration is about
free people in free societies
not militarism.

Next up
dis old cowboy
Sam Elliot.
He knows
how to speak
the language
of real football fans.
Finally, a man of the people.

Sam introduced the cities.
He starts with Pittsburgh.

"Built on steel
a place where
terrible is good
these are the
enduring qualities
of this great American City."

The Steelers
make a timely entrance
onto the floor of the stadium,
as millionaires erupt
shaking their terrible towels.

Sam's
fuax
folkism
for
Fox Sports
continued.

"Green Bay is Title Town
the people never quit.
Crafty veterans are winners
exhorting all to greatness"

Images
of Lombardi's
toothy grin
fills my 72 inch screen.
A visitation by
America's Saint,
the sanctifier
of all competition
anoints the proceeding,
the quest to claim
the trophy named
for the games
very own
Archangel
of the
Gridiron.

The extended gig of
Lombardi's ghost
has haunted America
for over half a century;
has reportedly been seen
stalking the stage
on Broadway.

The anointed
Packers sprint
onto the field and
millionaire cheese heads
taking big bites out of life
erupt in cheers.

My hi def wide screen
made by Sharp reports
Battle of Los Angeles
opens 3/11/11.
The Chicago Code
premiers on Fox
sometime in March.

Walter Payton
Man of The Year Award
is presented
to an NFL Player
watching the game
with the troops
in Iraq.

The millionaires
don't cheer,
but the Fox announcers
are verklempt
overcome with patriotism.

Michelle Lee,
star
of Fox'***** show
Glee,
poses in front of a
sanitized choir
in blue uniforms to sing
America the Beautiful.

The beautiful song
is but an opening act
for the musical centerpiece
Star Spangled Banner.

The cameras cut
to a smiling W.
He can't get into Switzerland
but ******, he won't be turned out
of JJ's OK Corral.

Christina Aguilera
takes center stage.
She mounts
the silver football
crowning the
Holy Logo of the NFL
to sing the hallowed
Star Spangled Banner.

She fumbles her lines!
She forgot the rockets red glare!
The Steelers are crying.
The Packers are angry.
Ice melts from the stadiums roof.
The foundations of Jerry Jones
new stadium shakes.

A fly over of 4 fighters in formation
appears to be unaffected by the flub.
The planes do not crash.
They stay in formation.

The pilots spare Christina
a strafing and drone strike.
The republic remains
secure for now.

An unfamiliar announcer
addresses TV land.
He offers an apology to the fans
who cannot be seated.

The fire marshals
have revoked
Jerry's seating plan.
Greed got the better
of this man of the people.
Cowboy Stadium
is overbooked!

What is happening?
Is this America?
An ATT commercial
arrives just in time.

ATT has a new plan for America.
They encourage us to live social
with the new ATT AG.
Free market solutions
always work best.

Michael Douglas
reads another
patriotic exhortation.

"United we,
see the journey
of Acme Packers
as our journey."

"We see the resolve
of US Steel
as our resolve.
Big dreams
believe the best
journeys are
celebrated together."
(I'm down with that.
Whats good for Jerry Jones
is still good for me.
Right On! Check this stadium.
Power to the people!
It may not apply to the people who
will not be seated but tough nuggies.
This is America ******. Everybody
can't be seated at the table.
Even if they paid for their seat.
This ain't Red China.)

Neon Dion and other inductees
into the Football Hall of Fame
tosses the coin.
Steelers' call tails.
Heads it is.

At half time
The Black Eyed Peas
descend from
an upper Valhalla.

Still attired in
black fascist threads
The Righteous Peas
start wailing as
white metallic minions
dressed as
Imperial Storm Troopers
gallop to surround
their idols.

Precise formations
goose steppin bops
choreographic steps
the visceral *****
perfect counter-point
to swabbles of wiggling Peas.

Slash,
Guns and Roses
guitar hero
gunslinger
strode on stage
winging
this gal of mine
in choreographed
unison with
the leggy
Fergie.

Pumping it louder
the spectacle incites
the dancing
Imperial minions
quick steppin
and fetchin it
as Usher descends
in white unison
to leap and dance
over nasty
black peas.

The Gods
are descending
upon us.
Their words
have become
flesh.

The BEP's bleat
"kids are dying
wheres the love?"
Art does mirror life.

The neon hearts
of cheap
glow sticks
light up
the time
of our lives.

We are
cubed box heads
happily dancing along
the 50 yard line
answering China's
resounding drum
of frantic proletarians
bashing away
neocolonial disgrace
during the opening
ceremony of the worlds
greatest Olympian
display of
the pounding will
of an emerging nation
arriving on the world stage
with urgent insistence.

In America
we party on
every night
swiping
revoked
credit cards
for express lane
exits at the
local Walmart.

We are proud
highly personal
bar codes!

We refuse to be
marked down and flung
into discount bins at a
Tupelo Dollar Store.

Our light of life
flashes across screens
directing the trading pits
at the Chicago Board of Trade.

Each Super Bowl Sunday
souper bowl beggars
collect canned soup
for hungry Americans
at the local Shop and Drop

begging for larmen
boxes of Kraft
freeze dried noodles
and cans of Progresso
the feast of kings

A triumph
of the
Will I Am
BOOM BOOM
Says
Will I Am

I finish my bag of
Cool Ranch Doritos
and lick my partners
fingers clean.

Music Selection
Steve Miller,
Livin in the USA


2/7/11
Oakland
jbm
(WIP)

its a blue Monday
after Super Sunday
Americas 45th funday
yesterdays spectacle

the dip is done
the broken bones
of buffalo wings
fill giant glad bags

the ridged ripples
of broken Doritos
scattered on the floor
wait for a vacuums hum

dead soldiers rattle
a melodious cascade
the aroma of flat Bud
plunge into recycle bins

ribbed Trojans
dripping bagged ****
rim plastic trash cans
confirm an ****'s frenzy

the game forgotten
commercial reveries remain
seared into the briney mush
of compliant olfactories

collective hallucinations
successfully branded
a new and improved
global consciousness

Madmen Shamans
ebulliently channel
transactional zeitgeists
from the ripped boxes of
Best Buy plasma screens

Monday morning
water cool scuttlebutt
the planet is buzzing about...

Google's cool slap
of iPod clad automatons
the vanquishers of IBM's evil empire
Apple's brave new world is next
("meet the new boss,
same as the old boss?")

we all dug
rolling with Eminem
through the glitzy
streets of Motown

How cool is 8 Mile?
The hoods lookin good
angelic chorus lifts spirits
Swing Low Sweet Chrysler

The artistic types
faun over
the graphic beauty
illustrious aestheticism

moving story line
the epic journey
of the worlds
greatest brand

heroic product marketing pros
rival Jason and the Argonauts
sojourning trans-formative odysseys
of clever packaging and fat tail shelf life

holding precious real estate
of living imaginations
infecting hearts and minds
of future generations

realizing
everything
ends better
with coke

The State Farm Pre-Game
Jimmy Johnson's new coif
jawed away with his old boss
rattlesnake booted Jerry Jones

A poignant embrace captured in
living color on grand jumbo trons
lording over a cavernous palace
a new stadium for Homeboys

Jimmy J asks Jerry J
"Why you overpaid
for The Boys New
Crib?"

"A billion 4,
a palace for the masses".
Jerry breaks some news
with an impish wink.
"No expense is spared
for the peeps."

"I always make out,
get a good return. I
make a profit. Ain't
America great."

This year Super Bowl
went Hollywood
and installed
a long red carpet.

Mike Strahan, collared
Harrison Ford.
Bagging his greatest sack
on a dazzling red rug.

"How many Super Bowls
is this for you?"
Strahan whistles
through his gaped teeth.

The aging Indiana Jones
came to promote his new flick,
"Cowboys and Aliens"
(I'm told an early Cannes
favorite. And it should be. Spoiler alert,
the movie is a moving story of an American tragedy.
Romo blows another one
throwing an interception in overtime.
The Aliens return it 95 yards for a touchdown.
Boy's lose again. America's Team vanquished by bubble headed Martians.
All of Texas weeps.)

Indy
coolly quips an answer
whipping with sarcasm,
"after today, one."
yuck yuck
lol

Strahan continues
to stalk Ford like a
scrambling quarterback,
"where will you be sitting?"

Ford shrugs
"dunno,
somewhere
up-there,
I guess",
he points to
the lofty
luxury boxes.
Royalty sits
next to God
in Jerry Jones
house of the
people.

Ford dons a green scarf.
He's down with the Pack.
Another sunshine *****
in the seat.

Michael Douglas and Zeta Jones
arrive in time to hear
Keith Urban sing
"Who Wouldn't Want to be Me?"

"He's alive
He's free
Who wouldn't
want to be me?"

Indeed who?

The parade
of heroes
continue.

The walking,talking
little S Corp, LLC's
dance their way
into the stadium
on resplendent
cushions of red.

Terrific brands
all earnestly
questing to
urgently
deliver
messages
to promote
themselves
and plug
shameful
products.

A Black Eye Peas
teaser
blinks onto
my giant
flat screen.

Will I Am
a black man
in a blacker mask
marches down the street
zapping people
with a ray gun.
(fascist culture is so cool, a
little light on liberation,
but **** does he look bad as all get out
in that leather rumble don't **** with me
outfit)

Jamie Foxx on the royal carpet leaks
that he yodeled three tunes
at a pregame party for Jerry's Kids;
T Boone and the Big W among them.

Quick cut
to Jamie's
new movie
Rio.
(I wonder if its
about Mexicano's
crossing the river?)

Wealth
Power
the perfect
image of ourselves
take a pill

I am Limitless
a new movie?
I've seen this one before.
I think I'm watching it now.

Just Go With It
Adam *******,
Jennifer Aniston
Americas sweetheart
teamed with Americas
kosher jokester.

He looks hot
in his droopy
pretend
don't give a ****
orange sweatshirt
and acid washed jeans.

Jennifer's ****, legs
what can you say
about America's sweetheart?
I think Brad Pitt
made a big mistake.

Bill O
is next.
Posturing,
arm wrestles
with the Prez,
shadow boxes
with the Big O.

"Muslim Brotherhoods
Rendition
Mubarack goes off the reservation
knows where the bodies are buried"
***!
***!

(Do we really need a dose of Fox Fear?
Is there no escape from the pernicious harangue?
Don't they know its Super Bowl Sunday?)

Bill O's drive by continues,
"Obamacare,
why do Americans hate you?"
Great journalism by this Fox ****.

Bill O is
haughty,
arrogant,
disrespectful
a despicable bully
and a self serving blow hard.

(My bladder is busting.
Its a great time to take a ****.)

We escape to
the freshness
of Owen Wilson's
smiling face,
playing two hand touch.

His bent nose
shining
he trots about
Jerry's field
carefree as a child.
(Is this a pitch, pass and punt
contest for A Listers?)

Other stars
join the light fun;
goose cheerleaders
give the cabana boys
hand-jobs
and themselves
a well earned blow-job.

Its an **** of photo ops
product placement
a sizzling collection
of dancing brands
prancing on the gridiron
of the New Cowboy field.

Ashton Kutcher
peeks over the shoulder
of a tweeting W.
I'm impressed
W knew
how to use
his thumbs.

Mrs. W's
permanent smile
was clearly visible
from the stadiums
cheapest seats.

Condie sat
way to the right
quietly stewing
lamenting
lost opportunities
of a gig as NFL
Commissioner.

On the stadiums floor
the frenetic dancing
of the
bumping
brands
fast
approaches
ecstatic elation.

Hollywood's version of
Whirling Dervishes; is
immediately stilled
as the solemn portion
of the program
commences.

The Declaration of Independence
is read by a bright galaxy of stars
accompanying armed service personnel
and other diligent American's.

"We hold these truths
to be self evident"

"United colonies
levee war,
dissolve bounds,
our day of allegiance
lives, fortunes and sacred honor
freedom is common sense,
free, equal, united"

CEO's
imprisoned
in Jerry's
luxury boxes
overcome
with
emotion
pound fists
on the glass
smearing
cocktail sauce
on the windows
of the suites.

Illegal
Chicano's
bravely
step forward
with rolls
of Bravo
and Windex
to wipe
it clean.

The focal point
of festivities
seismically
shifts like a
tectonic plate
almost as large
as Jerry's Stadium.

The stampede
of cheers
thunder like
canon shots,
the patriotic
ramparts of
militant
free market
capitalism
supplants the
shallow frivolity
of consumer slavery.

We are
compelled
to kneel
to celebrate a
Eucharist of
nationalism.

My partner explodes,
"Can't watch a football game
and view it for what it is,
a ******* football game."

The Fox
broadcasters
dedicate
this segment
of the show
to our military.

I squirm in my seat.
Sorry,
but the declaration is about
free people in free societies
not militarism.

Next up
dis old cowboy
Sam Elliot.
He knows
how to speak
the language
of real football fans.
Finally, a man of the people.

Sam introduced the cities.
He starts with Pittsburgh.

"Built on steel
a place where
terrible is good
these are the
enduring qualities
of this great American City."

The Steelers
make a timely entrance
onto the floor of the stadium,
as millionaires erupt
shaking their terrible towels.

Sam's
fuax
folkism
for
Fox Sports
continued.

"Green Bay is Title Town
the people never quit.
Crafty veterans are winners
exhorting all to greatness"

Images
of Lombardi's
toothy grin
fills my 72 inch screen.
A visitation by
America's Saint,
the sanctifier
of all competition
anoints the proceeding,
the quest to claim
the trophy named
for the games
very own
Archangel
of the
Gridiron.

The extended gig of
Lombardi's ghost
has haunted America
for over half a century;
has reportedly been seen
stalking the stage
on Broadway.

The anointed
Packers sprint
onto the field and
millionaire cheese heads
taking big bites out of life
erupt in cheers.

My hi def wide screen
made by Sharp reports
Battle of Los Angeles
opens 3/11/11.
The Chicago Code
premiers on Fox
sometime in March.

Walter Payton
Man of The Year Award
is presented
to an NFL Player
watching the game
with the troops
in Iraq.

The millionaires
don't cheer,
but the Fox announcers
are verklempt
overcome with patriotism.

Michelle Lee,
star
of Fox'***** show
Glee,
poses in front of a
sanitized choir
in blue uniforms to sing
America the Beautiful.

The beautiful song
is but an opening act
for the musical centerpiece
Star Spangled Banner.

The cameras cut
to a smiling W.
He can't get into Switzerland
but ******, he won't be turned out
of JJ's OK Corral.

Christina Aguilera
takes center stage.
She mounts
the silver football
crowning the
Holy Logo of the NFL
to sing the hallowed
Star Spangled Banner.

She fumbles her lines!
She forgot the rockets red glare!
The Steelers are crying.
The Packers are angry.
Ice melts from the stadiums roof.
The foundations of Jerry Jones
new stadium shakes.

A fly over of 4 fighters in formation
appears to be unaffected by the flub.
The planes do not crash.
They stay in formation.

The pilots spare Christina
a strafing and drone strike.
The republic remains
secure for now.

An unfamiliar announcer
addresses TV land.
He offers an apology to the fans
who cannot be seated.

The fire marshals
have revoked
Jerry's seating plan.
Greed got the better
of this man of the people.
Cowboy Stadium
is overbooked!

What is happening?
Is this America?
An ATT commercial
arrives just in time.

ATT has a new plan for America.
They encourage us to live social
with the new ATT AG.
Free market solutions
always work best.

Michael Douglas
reads another
patriotic exhortation.

"United we,
see the journey
of Acme Packers
as our journey."

"We see the resolve
of US Steel
as our resolve.
Big dreams
believe the best
journeys are
celebrated together."
(I'm down with that.
Whats good for Jerry Jones
is still good for me.
Right On! Check this stadium.
Power to the people!
It may not apply to the people who
will not be seated but tough nuggies.
This is America ******. Everybody
can't be seated at the table.
Even if they paid for their seat.
This ain't Red China.)

Neon Dion and other inductees
into the Football Hall of Fame
tosses the coin.
Steelers' call tails.
Heads it is.

At half time
The Black Eyed Peas
descend from
an upper Valhalla.

Still attired in
black fascist threads
The Righteous Peas
start wailing as
white metallic minions
dressed as
Imperial Storm Troopers
gallop to surround
their idols.

Precise formations
goose steppin bops
choreographic steps
the visceral *****
perfect counter-point
to swabbles of wiggling Peas.

Slash,
Guns and Roses
guitar hero
gunslinger
strode on stage
winging
this gal of mine
in choreographed
unison with
the leggy
Fergie.

Pumping it louder
the spectacle incites
the dancing
Imperial minions
quick steppin
and fetchin it
as Usher descends
in white unison
to leap and dance
over nasty
black peas.

The Gods
are descending
upon us.
Their words
have become
flesh.

The BEP's bleat
"kids are dying
wheres the love?"
Art does mirror life.

The neon hearts
of cheap
glow sticks
light up
the time
of our lives.

We are
cubed box heads
happily dancing along
the 50 yard line
answering China's
resounding drum
of frantic proletarians
bashing away
neocolonial disgrace
during the opening
ceremony of the worlds
greatest Olympian
display of
the pounding will
of an emerging nation
arriving on the world stage
with urgent insistence.

In America
we party on
every night
swiping
revoked
credit cards
for express lane
exits at the
local Walmart.

We are proud
highly personal
bar codes!

We refuse to be
marked down and flung
into discount bins at a
Tupelo Dollar Store.

Our light of life
flashes across screens
directing the trading pits
at the Chicago Board of Trade.

Each Super Bowl Sunday
souper bowl beggars
collect canned soup
for hungry Americans
at the local Shop and Drop

begging for larmen
boxes of Kraft
freeze dried noodles
and cans of Progresso
the feast of kings

A triumph
of the
Will I Am
BOOM BOOM
Says
Will I Am

I finish my bag of
Cool Ranch Doritos
and lick my partners
fingers clean.

You Tube Music Video:
Black Eyed Peas
Joints and Jam

2/7/11
Oakland
jbm
(WIP)

(1)                 Peter Holcusker was not a sinner          
                    tanned and dried like a prune
                    eyes wandering, glinting the petty change in his pocket
                    cobblestone bruised knees and half-eaten bagels
                    denim overalls, probably stolen
                    the land was impolite
                    it's inhabitants no less
                    "who could love a *****", they hushed
                    aren't they the children of filth and ****
                    they steal and they stare
                    the grumbling of their belly is it not an excuse enough


(2)                 I've heard he lives in a barn
                    near lake Marshdon
                    he keeps to himself
                    a sly and sneaky little chap, he is  
                    he is no guileless soul
                    we all know his truth
                    he needn't say much
                    Peter Holcusker is the worst of us
                    vices know him well
                    he hides the devil in his trenchcoat pocket


(3)               now you ask
                   why has Peter not spoken up for himself?
                   gossip and tattle envelop him
                   yet he like all of us has fallen prey to it
                   why don't we forget
                   all our past- doings  
                   like the town-people have forgotten his goodness
                   everything Peter did with them
                   they have labeled him, caged him in a flurry of words
                   they cut his tongue and spoke for him
                   oh Peter, how did it come to this!


(4)                I saw him begging on Downbury lane
                   his beret was from Harrods
                   who in their right mind would  give money or pity
                   to a prince-like pauper
                   Mrs. Zeta  saw him in the pharmacy
                   "He must have stolen all those medicines", she hollered
                   "Disease  is an apt punishment  for people like these
                    these villains must live in constant  misery
                   ; that's all these slimy miscreants  deserve "
                  

(5)               The goldsmith and carpenter, radical believers
                    of the notion of heaven and hell
                    look at Peter as if he is already living in the fiery pits of
                    shame
                   but they do not pray for him, looking all polished in
                    their Sunday suits
                   the army of hypocrites walking in unison to  church
                   singing baseless hymns in great fervor
                   they leave religion an all its virtues in the bible at the
                   pew
                   then gossip away to glory eating pudding  after service
                   mostly about the widowed or Holcusker


(6)            all the gossip-mongers huddle
                their spiteful remarks like invisible daggers aimed at their
                 latest victim
                their words pierced  poor Holcusker's ear
                 echoes of opinions and beliefs
                hound his mind, for who knows how long
                oh look, God, at Peter drowning in a sea of helplessness
                how often he sits, whiskey in hand
                looking for ways to sway his mind
                away from his unsaid murderers
                


(7)            "Peter, are you as bad as they claim
                tell me you're not the anti-christ, they say you are"
                he does not wish to say who he is, or not
                but he knows for a fact that 5 years ago
                he was just like these hearsayers
               looking down on the so-called plebeians  
               salivating at stories about them and gulping them just the
               same
               circumstances and karma are powerful beings in this
                universe
               He regrets ever saying anything, for the postion, he is now
               in


(8)           Holcusker was a farmer, living happily with his
                sweetheart
                he had three precious cherubs, whom he cherished deeply
                he too went to church every Sunday
               with Mrs. Zeta, the goldsmith, and carpenter
               eating chocolate truffle after service, mocking the poor
               widowed Carrie,
               now a harlot, trying to make a living for her children
               his words were sharp and ruthless
              and now he is at a loss for them
              the great misfortune took everything away from him
              "Oh, Peter tell me what did you do so ?"



(9)           tears stained his eyes, he wept and wept and wept
                he cursed the past and its unruly effect on the future
                "oh dear, o dear  I did what I had to
                I did what I thought was right in the heat of the moment
                but I can assure my heart guided my unlawful actions
                even the psychic could not predict my dreary winter  
               the opinions I kept ever so freely, were now aimed at me
               I was the runt of the town, the fool, the disgrace
               now stories and rumors are synonymous with my name
               yet no one has come up to me to ask me the reality of the
                situation
               why would they I don't blame them
               for, I wouldn't have done it either "



(10)         now Peter Holcusker lives alone
                he carries the burden of his past mistakes with him
                he is  prey to mockery and stares
                the source of all gossip and rumors  
                but I ask you, witness to the story
                Is is right, in all its entirety
                to reduce the dynamic **** - sapien
                subject to change and circumstances
                to a mere static picture of that one thing
                he once did,?
                I leave it to you the same species to answer this lingering
                 question
                are villains always villains?
                who's to say who did what?
                and can we for once break free from the atmosphere of
                suffocating hearsay
               and see things for ourselves
                I ask this humbly, the rest my dear is up to you

I
The remains of love we left behind render the wisdom of our tears,
just like a bomb in the heart, a beating, a bound, a lightning in the sky...
we expect something from this world. Maybe not.
These visions of grim and obsolete grief believe in my particular way to solve these dreams;
What is happiness but a dream?
A slumber composed by attributes of trembling fishes and sad cats.

II
I hear someone yelling at my shadow, telling me that she was there all along, and I did not notice before.
She was like a lament, lovely spreading like a plague;
her motion reminds me of a quite afternoon in the meadow, chamomile tea and snacks of honey;
her eyes were just like stones, falling right into my lungs,
her hair... O Lord! It was like a galaxy, another milky way surrounded by the same amount of black holes the time ever gave, that hair consumes what is left of my personal reality;
the mass of Jupiter, the sleep of Saturn, the mystery of Kuiper belt,
There was no other chaos in the universe so beautiful as her,
because she is allowed to destroy everything we know and reset the laws of the universe, and guard the old Earth within the echoes of a distant dying star, which happens to be the jagged legacy of my youth.
But not in her space, not her planets, only her own rules of the cosmos that serve to herself and herself only,
specially everytime she sings to the sea.

III*
If I could judge the taste of her voice, it's unlikely to state, it's like a new kind of lemon dessert, or sinking the bare hand in a sack of beans;
She is the last incarnation of Galatea, this beautiful machine.
That's what she is. That's why I fell in love with her.
Aurora borealis, Horse Nebula, Andromeda and Zeta Reticuli, from Cassiopea to the depths of Aldebaraan, standing between Ursa Major and Betelgeuse. That is the measure of her spirit, so warm and cozy;
like the lap of a mother during the war, the careful walk of a cat in the night, the eyes of a giant squid, the joints of a china doll, the dust long settled in a basement abandoned 28 years ago.
The last otherwordly dream duel for the fate of humanity, and the conquest of the spirit, that brave and savage impureness we call soul.
I think I know what she is:
another way to die unkown to life standars, my hopeful unrequited love,
that's what she is,
carries destruction in every step, and gives life back with a smile,
she is imposible, she is perfect, she'd never be mine, but she's somewhere in this dream
and that's fine with me.

she said her name
was: "Zeta Ampersand!"
"Wot?" I wotted?

her Da had named her after
some mathematical function
Ampersand she just liked the sound

she even signed her self
ζ (& ) "...the artist formerly known as
my self!"

"59 & 509...both primes!" she smiled
"30, 031...isn't!"
"!?!" I said

I watched a snake
of sweet sweat slither
between her cleavage

"...the Buckmisterfullerene molecule is
like a soccer ball...blah de blah.."
"Uh huh..yeah...I'm...eh...listening..."

to my heart beat
wildly out of control
she an Everest...I the foothills

said she liked
Daft Punk & kissing
"Now there's a coincidence..." I whispered

Daft Punk I didn't know but
I had a 1st Class Honours
in kissing &...stuff

we made love with
AROUND THE WORLD on replay
"Call me Z..." she sighed

*** with her was like
voicing alveolar sibilant fricatives
"Gee Zee...geeee!" was all I could say

I was an quantic entity
experiencing wave/particle duality
for the first time forever

Possible,
Water,
Rain like mud sticking to your flabby boots,

Drift closer,
The beam of a candle,
Melts my fluorescent membrane,

Kappa,
Gamma Gamma,
Zeta, Theta,
Delta 2 Minor,
We have Control,

The opening is cut,
Like vintage dawns,

fiestivo, rex,
Domus,
Sum,

Forget any retrieval,
Seldom Come,
Seldom Reach you,

Venido a menos víking, de poeta
(¡y en el Trópico!) estoy. Cuando cavilo:
¿será mi estilo, (por llamarle estilo)
-de ése mi estilo (estilo a la jineta)
yo mismo en veces (pocas) me horripilo-,
barroco estilo, ni motor de escándalos, 1
por descender (si criollo hasta la zeta)
de Renanos, Iberos, Godos, Vándalos?

De Iberos, (no español de pandereta),
de Renanos (si no bajo del tilo
romanticoide y menos soto el filo 2
guadañador: el Führer non me peta),
de Godos (pero zurdo: y nunca enfilo),
de Vándalos (¿por miedo al diablo mándalos
el Vulgo?) vengo (y vándalo un asceta?):
de Renanos, Iberos, Godos, Vándalos.

De inconexo y sin orden, soy veleta.
(Llévame el viento -como brizna- en vilo).
Ácrata soy, de buen humor tranquilo.
Jamás sóbrame duro ni peseta.
La Noche es techo de mi sólo asilo.
Grandes recorta, mínimos agrándalos,
fechos, mi móvil Yo: ¿síntesis? ¿meta?
de Renanos, Iberos, Godos, Vándalos.

De Enano hace Gigante, y -David- reta
verdadero Goliat, que vé pupilo
mi fantasía, y aunque corte un hilo
su mandoble: y sin honda, ardid ni treta...
Y, ante casos minúsculos, vacilo:
(casos que un soplo blándulo desbándalos...)
Tan vario humor, ¿es zumo que secreta
de Renanos, Iberos, Godos, Vándalos?

De loco no aprovecho, y la chaveta
perdí hace siglos, -y, si despabilo, 3
cuerdo ya soy: de la cordura silo!:
más cuerdo que el mejor anacoreta.
¿Cuerdo? ¡Qué vá! Con menos me obnubilo;
a Juicio y a Folía, Humor comándalos:
¿heredé Humor, Esplín -y la Pirueta-,
de Renanos, Iberos, Godos, Vándalos?

De ambas soy cojo, y ando sin muleta.
Sordo, y oigo el silencio. Y en sigilo
-ciego- oteante el ***** mar vigilo
de la cofa. Sin Fe, ni Amor, ni lieta
Bienandanza, Ambición, ni Afán, destilo
miel -si hiérenme- a ejemplo de los sándalos
(y acíbar además...) ¿Suma -incompleta-
de Renanos, Iberos, Godos, Vándalos?
Príncipe: ¿quién mis trucos interpreta?
¿quién cargará con la que en torre apilo
-¿de Babel?- ¿tonterías? ¿Quién no veta
balumba tal -inundación del Nilo?-
Malos caminos, muy más rápidos ándalos:
es decir, rasga ya la Baladeta 4
de Renanos, Iberos, Godos, Vándalos.

Fast life in the fast lane I got the fast car and the novacane cause it makes me sane kinda insane when I think to much when the cash came and the bodies drop and there faces dang I can’t sleep much I put it on my gang I really hated gangs but now I’m stuck in foreign chain with a foreign whip in a zeta trade most is tatted up but they come to **** me up and they love to aim aand they love to aim and I’m ashamed cause they love to aim and they love to aim and there’s so many bodies and now I’m stuck in the fast lane in a Zeta gang and love to **** but there acting tuff and they let me **** and they love to aim And I’m...
Scared ... of my own self and I laugh it off and the drugs are wearing off and there faces dang how many people I killed today

Breath slipping gratefully away I slip out of the day my pen glides like I have some swaggering tail ends to my means figured out I'm sand box plotting the little league games- vindictive and victorious, a competitive brute. Bruised daisies sniffing underneath nose tips like itching dresses in white floral lace I wait for myself to pass into a new realm of closed mouths and legs. I snake sneer at the bedside table adorned with rose book red and green, yellow print, fatigued and sweating answers out of my palms fingernails claw at the truth- I’ll stay twirling inside teacups for days, then peer out realizing nuts bolts soldered plates, a small world contained thank you orange vest like yellow jacket concerto under some candy man who shocks me out of my hole. I’ll run through the **** stained grass like an ungrateful child to the white fence caging the Ferris wheel another attraction buttery and cotton soft I lie down under stars feel something unfamiliar and incommunicable open mouth push out a short breath- wuh- feels like bathing in invisible truth certain for mystery and then it dissipates and I jump back into the prize box widening and shrinking at the semi-conscious crane. Place my cavernous eye against the glass and everyone hides. Maybe one day I’ll taste the rain acid-less in a dream and awake in damp grass our hair intermingling and find some constancy in the crease of your eyelid, eyelashes brushing I want to believe we can make love sparks that never die pierce the belly of Cetus exploding Zeta and dusting the Earthlings tingling necklines pull us all gently inward into each other into ourselves into a new plane of existing where we don’t long for slumber and sweet plum trees because we taste the spirit’s tongue in every waking hour.

She is steadfast and strong
Clean of heart and mind
This is where she belongs
And i want her heart as mine

Satisfied in being
Rather than seeming
Theres no one more appealing
Even when i am dreaming

She is of humble birth
but of noble worth
And she sees the same
In everyone on earth

She wears pink one Wednesday
In the fight against cancer
And its because of her one day
We will find the answer

She is humble in success
Without bitterness in defeat
She is one of the best
There is no one you will meet
Who is as worthy to pursue
One so devoted
To the Right, the Good, and the True

It's With a girl of
Zeta Tau Alpha
I fell in Love
The greatest of all things

The line up at the movie theatre is long.
And the rain crosses
the scene in diaganol lines.
that's when I saw her
so frail painfully thin and cold.
her face had been pretty once.
she still had the most beautiful blue eyes.
almost too big for her now gaunt features
she carried a sign
two children and homeless please help.
I recognized her as she got closer
I had seen her a week ago
at the bus station in town.
Then her sign read
cold and hungry please help.
someone threw a handfull
of loose change at her feet
she knelt down hurriedly
trying to pick up
every single coin.
I had only twenty dollars on me.
But suddenly the movie banner
with George clooney and
Catherine zeta Jones
smiling down at me
lost its apppeal.
I ****** the note into her hands.
she looked at me with her blue blue eyes.
Then i had to walk home
in the rain as fast as I could.
For I had an overwhelming urge
to hug my teenage daughter.
and tell her I loved her

She is pelting the Big Apple after she took aim at the Big Easy
Sorry that you dealt with another storm
Pouring rain and humidity all day til seven pm
Yet, Jif the squirrel was in his tree
The ducks found shelter though they would rather swim in their pond
The black cat sat under a car leering at passersby
Walk for health and charity is done daily for the ASPCA
Clears the mind and feeds the soul
Poor dogs and cats need help and every step does just that
Zeta rain

C@rainbowchaser2020

Concentrate
on the substrate
then expand it
with silicate
and
build your dreams
wafer thin.

Getting into it now
going
down through
the sub system and
into the quantum where
different rules apply

life resumes in beta or
zeta
which is Greek to me

even as I shrink and my
eyes cannot stand it
the substrate
expands
and the light comes in bands
but silently.

Trying to get a grid view
I look through the netting
but I'm
not getting what I need
and
amid the seeds where discounts grow
discontentment sows itself
to show up as the Alpha male.

I try again to concentrate
on the substrate
but fail
miserably.

The time has come, Oh Precious Ones! Luminary shall now delve,
Abyss of truth what can we prove, I shall ask Majestic 12.
Brahmarandrha, off Earth I swim, through the Sun's abode.
Drama enchanted, 5D granted as Ray rewrites source-code.

Vital mediums, nor less tedium, with fools who fool to swell,
Nature's Prana, Sayonara I know these dudes so well!
Haven't I said with fear and dread that She accustoms threat,
Didn't I say all night and day I work with Architect?

And Ra you know, does as He's told!.. 'processed my application,
Elementary, stamped my passport 'Alien Hybridisation'
Okay, I mean Emeralds an order, She bequeaths your Sun,
My covenant and Christoss mission, for you and everyone.

My Seven Sisters, how we miss yeah!.. it's way holistic severed,
Anubis bliss, oh what have you missed! Sunsoaked corridors the weather.
In Ma'at I balance Pleiadian alliance, Messier 45,
Light from Atlas, cosmic bypass, Stars flood Akashik eyes.

Do take note with antidote, Pleiades swims above all light,
Lies from Shaman tried to reign in, from the other side.
Thoth & Enki, Anunnaki, hybrid light collectives.
You should saunter cos now I warn yer, Thoth and I are feeling festive.

Plus, here on Earth I take wide berth from those who instruct Roman,
Into my dreams is ******* obscene, and a language you do Trojan.
Shouldn't you know this, working cold-case, a Minder on your side,
Truism grace, less keeping-face, a truth you cannot hide.

Now please concede, Epsilon phi, and Beta golden shards,
I sent a message to Pleiades Kings, they've returned with Kingship Arcs.
15:15:15 Rod Code, Magenta Sands now Order,
We arrive soon with less contrite, more pastels, once more I warn yer.

Zeta-tech, Military Greys, I'm saying it's all Truman!
Nuked our cloister, even through choice 'yer never really human.
Dove Grids, Phoenix, Solomon scenics left & right vice-versa,
Pleiades believe that there doth seeds, blue light that tries to curse Her.

I've channeled well and you may tell, certain telemetry,
Early warning your next morning with J.W.S.T.
With love I write, didn't James' wife tell Unconditional Love!
And how she plays in every day, Love's most anything above.

Omicron-Draconian-Rigelian wormholes closing,
Luciferian Covenants are now ******* imploding!
Don't you open can of worms! You'll find no flight tonight
Peruvian 7D gateways, my Love to 'Alien Love Bite'.

Third eye lights most every night, transceivers Alcyone,
My Atlas family are far-light-beings, who'll eat your macaroni.
My Gods, more Goddess, my beyond Love, I've never found such partner.
Those wings unfurled, now many worlds! I'm humbled as your gardner.

I'm off to remote view systems, off t'Southern Pinwheel,
Centaurus scent, I saw they sent a message scalar fields.
Fallen Angelics and all your Clerics, I invite thee ont' front row,
And if you can, bring watering can for how your garden grows.

                                           o  O  o