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new orleans spleen a satire of emotion and youth (a masturbatory derision) lopez/canal find a different way of assembling words of than common narrative/dialogue- irregular placement rhythm, flow, in placement not to be spoken or read in the common fashion but rather perused as if a painting read from all angles words twisted, oversimplified New Orleans Spleen Note to all small town artists visiting magical big city- (virgin) Jaywalking laws apply- I was high, drunk, paranoid sleepless, on speed, hungry thirteen dollars in new orleans in mardi gras and nervous about people being offended by my savage independence and the slices all up and all down my wrists people working on mardi gras are often pissed off an old man asked if i were lost i handed him a cigarette and nodded he called me pops and i strode across the street right now im quite fucked up from dreumgs dreaumgs drea mrugs d dr s u glisnen jazz on 7.98 radio under beckoning curtains wi thnd lithe but im smirking and tomorrow ill be walking up bourbon street with my hands in my pockets old dream boy, tom waits, ellington,s ome dead king JLF scott fitzgerald who am i today spinning mind (weed, beer, wandering through french quarter looking for my assassin, black tar heroin, nothing stylish there, kiddies, ate the skin off a man asleep in flowers and garbage) it would be better for some people to just have a personality script there are too many damn rules to follow everyone really im reading prewritten polite sludge from my guts and the backs of my blank eyes hoping i dont set someone into a fury over dust falling in populated rooms fell of restless people yawning like idiots everything is obvious what peril lies in the position of your lips on your face exhausting I am an angry person but it doesnt make me write humiliation and masochism really makes me write writing poetry is like bragging about your masturbatory technique to a waitress or a bum (Street Inquisitor?) Bad poetry, leave me alone i always thought high school teachers with their poetry was enough to make a sunny afternoon unpleasant you are a stereotype, i am a stereotype and this and most poetry trash sounds like a middle aged high school teacher trying to enrapture desultory (5 points) students at window lust living in a society made up by misanthropes is especially jeering if your a misanthrope yourself everyones got the wrong idea sees some other reality and were just swapping suits in a cardgame ive always been too fucked up to care about monday afternoon in new orleans on a bed no sleep in days too drunk and fatigued to go exploring like a little boy id be lying if i said this city werent like a drug insanity paints my face like a pair of sunglasses reflecting another reality it seems sometimes like cliché after cliché (weed and speed in my new pipe, and small amounts snorted off a pencap, beer im not used to people being honest, friendly, accepting never, ever simple people contortion fills the canals of their plowed mind like oil squeezing on the dirt like a heart squeezing on the body ive never understood why and what for people laugh, or cry, or assemble and enact their character things explainable by logical thought are only lies and success together ive found all of it "absurd i like drugs and alcohol its all television to me except what isnt (much) isolation, insanity ,lust, unquestioned or withheld and abhorred passions People want things out of you- why? Let it all fade away and try to have soft dreams while they carry you to your cool grave (absinthe, beer, weed, sleep? are we all invalids crippled by our fancy all that does not make money, costs money so watch it dry up take your pill dont be late for work (weary english nervous girl answers sarcastically with a gesture of mock servitude "the time is five eleven i must behave royally, mimic of dead alcoholics, madmen, lust crazed scribblers, aloof 5" o' clock and I'm a strange kid in love, I'd probably break down crying in a bar unless I had gone alone my boy is(not) thinking about all the new ways he can bust my cherry (he can't (can) help it) (Anmfd Eiygh Ncayte ilpj idither i need to buy toothbrush and a muffler for my dreambox my ass too self loathing shit faced in the delirious sun falling (wandering streets drunk/high) More Alcohol and drugs and I dont notice much it all flies by in a haze of other peoples impressions I walk past beer taps handfuls of potent drugs muscular titties slapping my expressive face around terse dismissals of loneliness unaware that upon request, it could be gained our miseries are our own fantasies the self is the worst enemy for the self is the least suspected hate yourself and your life will be miserable you will split in two and fight yourself to the death im anxious to go to bourbon street, a bar but im tired, so ill lay in the dark until 11:20 conjuring ghosts from my imagination to swat away upon reality rising, hopeful the second he could walk he began to run never letting the water settle into that terrible reflection (it doesnt bother me so much) until his skin was hanging running became more foreboding than the reflection and he stumbled in, took a sip and a hit pallid became florid and he passed out then one day began to run again always at some minimum wage register (much like me only not so enthusiastic time to go personal log to keep feelings paranoia strangling perfume wafts over my moist body anxious and fatigued you went away (here it comes colors became blurry and vicious there was pain you see in disheveled lone old mens faces as they cross the street pain you hear in the first sound of each morning being the expressway pain as in the gray 7am streets surrounding bus station and mental hospitals under sunken yellow lights pain as in silence pain as in the most gruesome life-takes know the most delicious task is when they never admit to their prey their intentions, even while committing them neither with emotions, movements, gestures they are polite as if giving the person something they had been wishing for a lonnng time when you left me I drank a glass of wine opened my wrists and blathered shame to disinterested strangers i can hear the sounds of parade outside but am indisposed, tired broke, confused, and rolling my eyes in stupid lost suicide stumbling bliss my brain cackles and clacks like a throng leather belts striking tin pain as in your mothers face when you still havent changed pain as in watching drift off your light all the while pledging its inertia (it sounds as if hes giving birth pain as in seeing your childhood unravel wilting petals with one or two remembrances pain as in having your father begging you to suck your dick because no one will look at him but you ive gone off now spilled over the rims and onto the stove hissing fury at fucking up so many things having nothing now but the company of my memories of loss, failure, ruin so pitiful it couldnt be told from any sort of point of view or put into a story unless i showed a scathing hatred for myself and my life driving over springs first bud through the noxious snow with the $50 wheel of your car you puzzle over in your middle age because you need something to believe in watching people you once filled yourself full of love and admiration for become the same useless people that kept you up all night grinding your teeth just wanting out so hard to love (weeping clowns and lost children holding red balloons looking down a busy street so hard to love even harder now nothing left here to salvage but the airy taste of desolation snow blanketed field gray sky and nothing else but wind craving death in a cheap meat locker and hitting the pipe with trembling fingers last living dollars shaved away to pay for lining in your cxffin always asleep in the reality of things when you left me i went to new orleans to die and it smells like flowers outside fuck fuck me fuck me plz i dont know anymore what is supposed to be done and found and love must be found here, this way and i vex all my blessings with self loathing and bad poetry cluttering the window sills i am hiding behind an empty skirt from another empty skirt to hide behind sometimes the wind blows you apart like a notebook the sun peers blankly into your eyes and gawks idiotic just like everything else each day suicide seems more gets funnier like this gruesome drunk idiot telling the same joke over and over again until it starts to get funny (more speed, weed, black tar heroin, absinthe *blush*,american alcohol restless wanderings and philanderings, faint dalliance, much humility in my gait pages of musty nervous recollections pages of childhood faces bad stains nervous music manchild fooling no one dick in hand maybe ill find some heroin tonight i mean tomorrow on bourbon these are pitiful words drunken words suicidal words heartbroken words empty words dementia again i need sleep i need booze i am a shaved sheep running through traffic sodomizing myself with one hoof and hopping on the other three stupid dreams of life they bore me a particular shade of self loathing covers "they try so hard to break out of their little worlds much like me, sad dog, beaten i tried to beat the misery but i couldnt and i sank beneath singing voices in the sink there is a drain in the drain there is me on my bed are bedbugs on me is misery dont ever laugh as the hearse rolls by for you will be the next to die they wrap you up in a long white sheet and preen your flam nice and neat wipe you with mushy flowers from the scalp to the lap to the feet and tuck you away nicely in a drawer beneath a blanket of soil and sleet (chronic schizophrenia! (chronic shhizophrenia! (chronic budz he fell in love at a glance and lost the face in a crowd after that growing old in a lawn chair watching his breath and his beer and the passing of another hollow year smiles wearily at the face he once loved most people follow an abstract predetermined agenda created in their childhood and sustained by a fear of "insanity?" the mind and the body is a channeling device capricious prone to all sort of whimsy character changes, urges Depopulation when people enter any establishment they are shot if they enter the bathroom or go in the back to "pay" or wait at a special booth, etc, etc or taken by the police anywhere (executed) or let people into house no one ever taken by force all is entrapment people walk around w/ nooses binding their necks if they obviate from "Agenda" it tightens, continually tightens until they die (some things make the noose just pull up, killing) or loosens at the efficacy of agenda ol' man gots offon givin' naivetes/virgins Aids. seduces them in the most human manner w/ love and reverence stupid poetry love its all smoke everything cashed tired ok, its fecund and ready for the husking (fuck you mister! i can see it in my dreams outside a man grimaces with gang rape fury at the sound of my arrogant beercan(ego) popping down sounds from my virgin window open cocks grow everywhere boys touch queers to slurp in old age (some people i know only see dollars and snow) (ohio, away muffled chrome horns settle in the cracks of the morning windows) not another one, god, shut up sew his mouth shut with the strings from his guitar i hope my brother shows up imediminahotslinorlins shakespeare sneers in the cloudy night mustve pissed him off with my innocence smeared on the other side, decadent all thoughts are seen like ghosts dancing under their shawls in thin cigarette smoke lies obvious nothing is hidden he stormed off drunk, ah well another friend, another brother off running, alright corrupt and exacerbate my virgin dreams cut down the stalks before they grow that beauty is going down the road blinded by her dreams its like im walking around new orleans with my cock dangling out innocence is a cage for decadence and vice-versa cut the flowers heads off before they grow (rimb.) or watch beauty wilt like your face like your childrens good will (crackheads!) like your childhood dreams of becoming "famous" (shut up already, humanity is a farce revel in our abstraction) drown your children in the river, mother i understand you television is americas most potent opium it makes all emotion numb, like some sweet novacane dissolving in your veins (drunk cutting you off from those sensations of flesh people hate because they cannot love those artists- you know them their miserable faces sneering away the minutes on your t.v. screen one can get famous with the right kind of mirror lonliness, desolation, paranoia, gut me, self, you are another so gut me before i can gut another grow ugly on the scent of your hate like sink glue hate unravels like a bible hate unravels like a spiteful joke demon when drunk cut my throat doctor my fingers are too long i scare and damage those i love wretched creature maybe my brother will come back! (drugs under the streetlights, hints of weedsmoke in the washing treetops and bustops, meagerly priced cunts hissing at you like sirens from the french quarter) Drunk and i thought someone stole this notebook (i couldnt find it) out of one of my paranoiac strollers be as nondescript as possible slightest waves strike the innermost limestone souls so long, shithead ok, seealater sorry sir the speck of dust on your index finger, singes virgin hairs from anothers spine schizophrenics are sad ones, they only hurt the ones they love deep from the riverbed of television america here i come, with more deep scars for the pinkflesh behind your fingernail kill me please, im doing it myself but its taking to fucking long felix ,i cant do it cant hold my drinks im going to lose it i cant hold the drinks, im spinning like the town insulter all spinning violently need something to hold onto im going to lose it felix, im going to lose it ,lose it all into an ashfilled bag, louis drunk, and the plaster from the ceiling falls and buries my inert body i am too afraid to move vicious madman help yourself sleep it off drunkard chew your teeth into toothpicks kill people with a glance i am a creature beastly, cover me in wrappings i make the children weep and snarl its all spinning its all melting drug, and sleep it off, just sleep it off, old drunk, the sun will melt the wax illusions that make your heart tremulous its empty, its dead its my fault ive slaughtered love for 7.98 and a pack of cigarettes (material for another satire sleep it off, old drunk, youre still young yet regain your posture sleep it off no one can tell you your not going to stumble dead at your cigarette burned carpet and dusty coffers as you do when drunk youll never regain your tired sprawl after that sleep it off drunk sleep off life just! let it fall through your fingers like money have another, suicide bones you wont live to age 27, a breeze makes you shed tears you shed droplets of blood i am the idiot i am the ass waiting to be booted just go to sleep, it will all be over soon let it float like steam over your sleeping body let it float sleep it off let me sleep let me sleep the clock ticks the clock walks the clock walks down the lane through the refuse a drop of beer strikes my face from above, on bourbon street will i weep tears of whiskey it will dry up all nasty like and cake your eyebrows like roadsalt let me sleep sleep now let me sleep now let me sleep it off (weed, sleep, chaos uneasy, muffled thumps, a gunshot blocks down or a firework ominous trees offering savory repellant in their swaying repose behind the candy coated sky) your innocence makes as much noise as a screen door slapping down the wind i want to lick your innocence off of your thighs i want to drink the droplets that drop out of your eyes fathers sip their wine as their sons coax away their demons to keep them company for a lifetime sometimes you will find these rare girls ages fourteen and fifteen who will fuck you inside out because you smirk once too often im so drunk i cant move im so drunk my dreams burst and rage like grapes plump on the vine teasing each other on the wind into barrels to get wine to get so drunk like me encapsulated, drunk, stupid kid on the suicide float in the mardi gras parade "Drunk! Oh, drunk again, you Idiot! I lay in my hole already dug(?) and play with my flowers and laugh at my grinning unresponsive skeleton friends tug on that rope and petals will waft down from the sky on that path that cuts through the trees swaying dramatically in the silence at the silence dopefish flopping in the ink laughing at the way you walk your wounds glow like coins in the guts of a fountainhead your blood flows like the horns of a mossy riverbed (*sigh) a fountainhead grinning at the north each mouth mumbles constantly says "what" never hear each other, say insults, other things not heard, misheard he held his eyes shut tight from birth and when his loves hand finally opened them with a caress his mouth opened slightly and his face dripped colors he got so drunk that he couldnt move and watched the parade pass from a bench at a bus stop dialogue where all hate each other nobody takes notice, or cares soon soon the shit will fall out and i will be tossed like dandelion smoke like weed froth absinthe, 30 dollar blowjob starry, starry fucking night i cant sleep and im high and drunk the sky looks like deaths face smirking the bugs crawl over my body sick with lust dripping in the dark the bugs crawl over my magazines the bugs crawl over my pennies this lust is too much for this body i lick the sky i suck on dripping exhaust pipes i reach into the earth with my swollen fist and pull out knots of earthworms pink and writhing laughter emitting from my right ear sweat stains my five day shirt cum stains my five day shirt beer stains my five day shirt young girls pluck virgin flowers from their bodies and wipe their colors on the pages of their notebooks we are expendable meats our music is only noise like everything else our averted natures allow our mind to flourish all of you is extra except your hands pull the lever tap the keys yank the skin point in the opposite direction bugs crawl my mattress bugs crawl my sheet music floods my ruddy ears i havent heard in years everywhere is haunted everywhere is the same the misery follows you everywhere the ghosts from you life whispering the music that make you grimace all over everything is a lie trying to pass itself off as the truth everything is a joke ashamed of itself or otherwise broken, incorrect, bad written illegible illiterate emotionally tinged tilted, broken, no rhythm the same hopeless dreams latch and pinch onto you skin and drag behind you like flags of toilet paper before you know it you will be van gogh drug off your own sweat an isolated, odd, different twisted, sad way of codependent idiot living! almost there *epilogue* another writer not another writer some lady on a bus blaring rap music and filling pages with words the heroine of her own tragic and comic lovestory another writer another image another phony ploy for money and attention and no one gives a shit its all the same you can tell whats going to happen before it does these words will turn into jibberish in five seconds dumb bitch Make the vulgarity and the vicious insatiable predatory interests of man baseness idiocy insurmountable overzealous complexity and violence overdrawn and musical in its vulgar comedy why, when i was a boy i had devils running all up and down my strapped body like stinging wet cunts with legs! i was full of evil! i pissed in a birdbath when i was four! i want to hurt myself, old man of sixty! i drink beerz all day you fucking brat! stop humoring, and patronizing me you sweet wigs, with your sugar pills and ameliorating lyrics! im a fucking smart old man! i stuck my toe in a cats ass and booted it through a window! my right foot is black from guilt of my ridiculous stupid life! my mother was impregnated by a man who had just been shot in the head! she dove on his spurting cock just in time! i went to the neighborhood fags house with a rose! i want to drown in a tin can full of lies! im an old man whose rocking chair is his big hole in the ground! they told me it didnt matter, but it does, i hurt my own delicate feelings and want to cry! i passed wind when i saw a woman writing poetry on a bus! ive always hated my friends and family! and my wife and kids were fucking bloated pigs! they ate away 90% of my paycheck everyweek and were all at least 100 pounds heavier than i! i act like i want to fuck everyone to keep them away! i used to jack off in booths in arbyson sunday afternoon snickering! i look at grlz legz. mommies and daddies care made me want to put babies in ziplocs. even though i gave them food and blankets they threw me and my still into the river while i was sleeping inside it. all i do now is pretend to complete writing crossword puzzles while im really writing this trash! leaves cover the soil
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