1-800-GIMCRACK

What does the GIMCRACK make you feel?
Does it make you feel less?
More ostentatious?
Less displayed?

Are your senses played upon
by a blinding collage of
mediocre concession stands?

Does strip-mall jewelery
whisper "GIMCRACK" through the optic terror
of florescent lights?
Does it titillate within you
to differentiate between a diamond and cheap plastic?
Does it not remind you of stale air being whisked past
your nostril hair like halitosis out a leper's mouth?

The GIMCRACK.....
Think of it, for a brief moment, as a
life-threatening malady, a pestilence.
Human beings wear it like a bubo
on the most DESIRABLE parts of their bodies.
Some hang them as ornaments on their Christmas trees (Santa Saves),
never to comprehend WHY their children have grown inept-

With broken bulbs dispersing throughout their ligaments,
Their minds, their words:
Comely shards etching hieroglyphics
that portend inside the walls of their anatomy.

The GIMCRACK...
Does it bear the nuance of iniquity?
To you?
Your fore-bearers?
Your Ancestors?
Does it signify beauty?
Or, is it a swamp that seeps up the stilts
into your home....
and seeps in...
and seeps in...
and comes in
"Come in."
You allow them.

You allow IT.

Did the woman on television tell you to....
CALL NOW?
Do 1-800 numbers give birth to several million
cavalcades in your head, a procession that echoes:
CALL NOW...
Call Now...
Call Now...

Can you hear it as if it were a haunting comradery?-
a ghost-like recollection of a helping hand,
a kiss, a love, a breath?
Would you prefer the GIMCRACK
to replace all mortal beings?
A breakdown in communication-
Incommunicado?

Do you suffer this?
Do tasteless flotation devices allow you
to float gaudily rather than swim charismatically?
Do you prefer to be a charlatan?

THE GIMCRACK WILL ASSIST YOU!!!!

The people responsible for the manufacturing
of GIMCRACKS; do they have GIMCRACKS
as well?
Do you believe they enjoy wasting their lives,
many hours devoted to the sole production of gewgaws 
to compliment your luxury?

Have you thought about it?
Or
Is there a circumambient voice in your space that
ejaculates full-blast,
clogging your ears,
your passage through the frontal lobe,
acting as a soporific that becomes
the autocrat of your dreams?
Is it calling you?
Does it tell you everything will be okay?
"EVERYTHING WILL BE OKAY."

Is it your own personal bellwether?
Does it drive you?
Inform you?
Scintillate?

CALL NOW.

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No number four.

No number four. I cannot section myself. I just have to keep going.  Are you looking at me? Not that pencil on your desk. How fascinating is a pencil? What were you thinking about when you were staring at that pencil? You are so dishonest. Harriett talks to me like I am Jesus. She prays and confesses and tells. She spins wheels of good and evil. She contains no evil, but she weaves it for herself like a cocoon. I have the characteristics of Jesus, but I do not use them for life. He was a revolutionary. I am a repressed revolutionary. Are repressed revolutionaries inspiring Harriett? Harriett said no. Then why do you treat me like Jesus? Because you remind me of him a lot. How could that be. A fragmented sentence just projected out of me. I suppose I should say that she told Jesus many tales. Her mother was silent like my mother. She hated her for her silence. Figuratively she was silent. Folks can be loud and silent at the same time. Every word her mother spoke was a vessel. This vessel would percolate within Harriett. It would become louder inside Harriett. I used to see blood in her ears and wonder where it came from. Harriett said the blood just kept coming: she would keep talking as if it were not spilling.  Her mother had a handicapped imagination. This disorder ostracized Harriett from the womb. Her mother would go on vacations for a long time. Harriett found her master when her mother went on these sojourns; he has been with her ever since the first one. The first was the longest; the rest were endured at shorter intervals.

  When Harriett was finished speaking at Jesus she would reach into her bag for a new face. Dolls can do that. Abrupt ability. Just like this story. Abrupt. It contains abruptability. How the colors would turn. I saw them brighten just a bit too much. This was when she told me how bad I was (and still am). When her comprehension fails the colors go everywhere like the snow. There is no interception and no clarity. She told me that people are vacuums with squamous organs inside. I had no organs. I was just a vacuum cleaner. I sucked up dirt, but I could not digest it. I spewed it all over the rugs and the furniture.

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VANDALISM IS KEY!

I live for it and i have a pet-peeve (among many) concerning artificial flowers. Actually the white suburban flash of white trash and trophy neighborhoods make the snot in my nose cry a river, albeit, a raging river. I live next to a town that claims:Stratford-The town of forest and sea. Uh, where is the motherfucking forest? All I see are made in China houses and slow restaurants, and of course, THEE OLD LIQUOR STORE. I have a pet-peeve against signs that lie. Like the Stratford, My town motto is one big lie. "A Small City With A Big Heart" is what the sign says as you enter my town. But, really it is just a dumb suburb with a big dick. FALSE! ALL OF IT! Go buy your artificial flowers and stick them in your eyes because I'm afraid you have seen too much "small-city" person. That is enough. ENOUGH! I dream of vandalizing (not that this has never happened) every shit-ugly gated-ish neighborhood that make the deer homeless. With can in hand I spray these words: YOUR LAWN LOOKS LIKE SHIT. Bye.

But vandalism can be beautiful, especially when what is being vandalized starts out ugly.-http://sniggle.net/vandalism.php out ugly.

Vandalism is what I want to be when I grow up. My middle name  revenge. Now get into your over-sized gas waste shit soccer mom vehicle (All spray painted with the word "FUCK" on it) and drive to the nearest garbage can. Amen.

Far From Me

For you dear, I was born
For you I was raised up
For you I've lived and for you I will die
For you I am dying now
You were my mad little lover
In a world where everybody fucks everybody else over
You who are so far from me
Far from me
So far from me
Way across some cold neurotic sea
Far from me

I would talk to you of all matter of things
With a smile you would reply
Then the sun would leave your pretty face
And you'd retreat from the front of your eyes
I keep hearing that you're doing best
I hope your heart beats happy in your infant breast
You are so far from me
Far from me
Far from me

There is no knowledge but I know it
There's nothing to learn from that vacant voice
That sails to me across the line
From the ridiculous to the sublime
It's good to hear you're doing so well
But really can't you find somebody else that you can ring and tell
Did you ever
Care for me?
Were you ever
There for me?
So far from me

You told me you'd stick by me
Through the thick and through the thin
Those were your very words
My fair-weather friend
You were my brave-hearted lover
At the first taste of trouble went running back to mother
So far from me
Far from me
Suspended in your bleak and fishless sea
Far from me
Far from me

Crazy love

Hated by all and everywhere he goes
Blazing contempt for human life and lies
Murder as art and what he knows he knows
from life and fear in other people's eyes

Crazy love is all around me
Love is crazy love is kind
But I know somehow you'll find me
Love is crazy love is blind

She walks the boulevard without a care
Knowing too much but having come so far
Pretending life is just a game you play for nothing
Loving no-one and no-where

Crazy love is all around me
Love goes crazy given time
But I know somehow you'll find me
Love is crazy love is blind

She looks as if expecting a surprise
Maybe an encounter that will change her life
Not knowing hot from cold or good for bad
If life is just a joke or if it makes her sad

Crazy love is all around me
Love is crazy love is kind
But I know somehow you'll find me
Love is crazy love is blind

Crazy love is all around me
Love goes crazy given time
But I know somehow you'll find me
Love is crazy love is blind