Tuesday, November 6, 2007

Refuckingly Fresh

I’m on a Cohen to the top of the hill

I’m on a mission in her big old world
with her abalone wind
her stuff on a fence

Stop and get me at the top of the hill
Now everything’s reek

When I learned that tree was piggy noise
hammer voice
hoisin rain

Sun is up, the world is fat
Smell a runt and drone of fries

Hoisin rain
Don’t give me a tinhorn prism

Tookie Lawton took the dirt road
Night is fog and light, a bloody egg

Lachrymae soul

Hidden branch carving with an axe
with the laws of man
the grapes of your hand

I’m going to tape the scenes of my brother
down to appall

down to napalm humiliation of our fallen steed
written in the book of Tubal Cain

Long-gone shogun of a roast cocaine
Brooklyn to moan, a stretch of the rack
all my belongings

Hot ice, krunkaire
Roulette, roastgiving

Duck santa, steak road
Heat roid
Puff doody

wet clothes


Outside it’s death with a towel around him

You can let it out, it’ll love you
shaves off, new pink nut yell

I tossed a KO around you’re robe
A cold jammy to the window

Usher held my name in a scream

Don’t go into that barn yeah
His howl’s a potato with romaine

Claw like fingers, shining to a talon
to the muck of that bar
my porticoed house
the fallen timbers upside, whiped with field of gray

Did you bury your fire
Did your gocaust go

She broke a pie in the dust
lipstick made of glass

Behind the smoke of her curtain
sunk like a hammer to the leg

Tag your wagon to plow the road to the dead
Shamy Bomahomey on the lamb
Sheila’s hair

The sirens of snaking
somewhere in the whirl the reptiles blend in

down in the first rover
I want to know the pig

the hush hotel
metropolitan eye
the Cadillac stone
fifty analog rainbows