The True Meaning Of Christmas....

Dear The Internet,

$o It's Christmas eve morning, and all through my house
not a creature is stirring cuz I let the cats outside

Okay Foreal, For me?, Christmas is not so bad. Somtimes I get a little carried away with bashing this time of year. They should be allowed to have their fun and celebrate in their own way ($$$)
By"They"I mean the corporations andby "Celebrate" I mean, Neuter the meaning of "X-mas" completely and push, push, push, for us to spend, spend, spend...
It's only because the true meaning has been altered so intensely ($$$) that we sometimes forget that true meaning altogether. (???)

In my opinion the Christmas season is the one time of year where almost everyone gets the inkling to be grateful and give and help out. And that is so good. Every little bit of goodness helps. But, I cannot help but wonder what would happen if every season where the Christmas season.

Some people say it's all about Family. Some say it's all about the baby Jesus. Some say bah humbug. I say the same thing I always say..."WHERES MY FUCKIN PRESENTS!?" just kiddin.

All I want is socks. HA! There we have it.

The true meaning of Christmas....Socks baby!

Give (Buy)

More, spend, more, spend, more, spend, more...

DJ Spock...

I just dig this picture...

StinkBlaster.

Dear The Internet,


So I was on the Metro today on my way to the Centre Ville and I saw... The StinkBlaster.



It's a toy gun that shoots stinky air......20 feet! Quelle bonne idée! Why didn't I have one when I was a kid!

Oh ya. I was too busy playing with my 'evil horde slime pit', fake blood and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles...



Imagine. Christmas 2007, the stinkiest Christmas ever. "Aller dehors avec ton 'StinkBlaster' Tabarnak de Colice!!" I wonder if the stink would be the same in minus 15 degrees. I farted in a walk in freezer once and the smell seemed to linger a bit. Cold Fart. Gross.



Anyways là...

muhahahaha!

one look

Always See Everything...

another wire

brother

i've shipped out

/stop/

the boat is an exercise in posture

/stop/

i heard about your big speech

/stop/

i wish i could have been there to

see the look on your face

/stop/

congratulations on the cedars

i hear they're very accomplished

/stop/

when's the big dive?

/stop/

are you taking care of sister?

you know how rambunctious she can be

/stop/

it appears i've had far too much rum

/stop/

regards

me

end telegram

2006

a wire

england and francis are blue again
/stop/
facets in every corner
/stop/
someone with dark glasses waits
/stop/
i was there, in writing, rose in hand, i was bright
/stop/
wish you were here though
/stop/
can still smell the time, the hillside was dark
/stop/
i hope to see you in the hamptons
/stop/
i am taking more adventures now
/stop/
the writing here is brilliant
/stop/
who is the man staring at me?
/stop/
cover me in ashes when i get home
/stop/
i miss the comfort in being sad



regards

me

end telegram


2006

to know me is to kill me

too much to dream
too much to think
way over the hill and
down to the well
call it something else
throwing planets like muses
covering silence with wishes
neither the dying negation
we kill me


too little to say
too little to know
far into the earth
and eating the sky
call it something more
holding muses like planets
revealing wishes with silence
either the living affirmation
we know me


the well on the hill
dreaming and thinking
saying and knowing
something else with something more
the sky and the earth
wishing silence for
dying muses living with
such positive negation
affirming and confirming
that planets are for throwing
covering
revealing
everything
more...





2006

4 story temple (in haiku series)

bells go through our night

uninterrupted as they

pierce the starlit sky

hammering quiet

echoeing very slowly

like some old voices

all their stories told

reverberating roundly

every direction

dreaming it is there

with a strong bell in my hand

i will sound mine too

w

2006

The Fly With The Missing Arm

it was late and stormy

the clock before me

nourishing my upbringing

hardening

my ability

ticking and tocking

the second hand

is hiding a secret

in time

the fly with the missing arm

told me about that storm

and how he was left behind

in a puddle of mud

he escaped when we believed

he could be the one we could believe in

and believe me

we did

wide awake

alive and well

we do enough

wide awake

alive and well

we do enough

2006

Cerveau, A pastiche of the dictionary

Cerveau

belonging to an object of thought

a face that shows no emotion or intention

to wrap or draw around and close

wrinkles folds or creases

characterized by universalism

the aggragate of all objects

unpolished, rough, crude

having glistening scales

under the influence of light

a fertile brain

reverbatory furnace

a brazier or chafing dish

a yawning fissure

by inheritance

underhand agreement

tympanic membrane

elementary particles

bedlam

finished, ended, concluded

2006

Later

I like to play with words
and make them mean different
things in different ways
This is just random,
off the top of my head nonsensical fun.
I spew the words and make some
anagrams with them
and color them randomly
Then I use those words
to make another poem
It's like I'm Pastiching myself
So here we go

Later

tear signal forward
i crave slices
i desire to draw trees to
write poetry to write poetry
to draw breaths and teeth
these carve my inkways
swaying with mouth open
words spat out like shells
of words scribbled onwards
in times my sword fell
and shattered with hatred
this, they smite with and play with
darted and destined and dressed up in
book ends with taps and spouts
and open mouths like southern mouths
for pouring out a sheet to sign
your tongue gets stuck and papercuts
us and them, grouping together
covering our stinging wounds
and we're all craving carvings
wound up faces retarded shapes
us and them, pouring eachother
safe from distorted stories
only to be filled up again


Relate

tear slices draw trees
i desire to draw in my mouth
like words in hatred
dressed up with mouths like mouths
for paper and wounds
we're all faces pouring each other
safe, only,
signal to, to the breaths words with us
swaying shells book taps up
i write, write out my shattered
and pouring tongue, together, craving them
to be filled
to carve with this they darted
open to cuts grouping
covering carvings from stories
trees, breaths, destined shapes again
forward these scribbled times
with spouts out, our distorted only


2006

fun huh?

Warm

I found this in an old book I filled up 7 years ago
and thought it more fitting to read today than back then...



WARM

lessons on fire

a wall to climb

a hope to be warm

choking on our bite
of life

a perfect world untied

and spread thin

a gross concoction

a feeble mess
coughing on its hand

bacterial infest

warm

undress the globe
bleeding like lava
from a lonely volcano

wondering warm

infected by the humans

reaching to them

with a sweaty glance

soon to pour

and flood them out

behaving in unison

no earth to believe in

the world turned

warm

2000

Plans within Plans

the man who moves
mountains like stanzas
appreciates his plans
as the moon recedes
into the clouds
and the shadows
stand out all over
the lands as we
shout for storms sands
to wash the worn
currencies from our
eyes and hands
as well as the
discrepancies
of our lives and plans
in turn for
learned legends of skies
and humanitys cries
for a galaxys reprise

on top of
offworld
secret spies
sattelites
that orbit
true
and so precise
in unlocked paths
insane device

the determined and pre-
primal/thought/directive/advice
is deceptive

success in attaining the objective
gains us incentive and makes us
inventive to explore each dent and door
to our universe

as a speck of dust
a 'puniverse'

objectively
a ridiculous story
of incredulous theories
and science for weary
illogical beings
from other worlds
officially part of
the broad symmetry
and telemetry
of origin-ality

we have never ever
been alone

2000