7 Jan 2008

A Night Gone Deaf To Us

pure diamond sex quivers: she's a corporate logo by day, a mild bruise on the thigh by night: buttocks knocking against nothing wrong mixing zyprexa with copious amounts of gleaming html code: it'll put hair on your synapses, as my father used to say: raw sewage muscles: a neo-natal golden age once again: flags as barriers we are doomed to eat together trigger evisceration, liquid trauma: long-range cathode infection trying to devour every ounce of pussy working that lonely: eyes half-covered, yes: rusty camel-toe inventory knew she was hooked when she started ripping off suicide-bombers lurking around the downtown id: gardens of love wounded, empty and sobbing spatial blobs of cyber-grief shot in a midnight drug-raid: visited ethanol, the bones of the dead an effigy blistered repeatedly: codeine dances, red ashes of passion take another bite of pizza before growing new breasts: crucifixes pee in a cup, take cover behind abandonded bottles of beer at the far end of the bar, just in case some missplaced optimism still lingered in the bathroom or the strife of her pimpled face: immiseration fraternities whisper dark secrets into the ear of her heat: no choice but to trust her now: interminable wait daydreaming about dayglo coloured surprise waltzing through the door: no sense in sinking to your knees waiting for the cum-bath: rote derision registered on still-pretty features vibrating from the chilly pavement through grimy windows: deception dawns, strokes a scabbed chin: emaciated brick just a five-piece away, last call sweaty palms could easily be sold for thirty if gravity can only keep its cool with all those saxophones wailing mixolydian frenzies: ice-cold shots of pornography for the proper post-mortem cycle: fish blue in the exact same spot for hours at a time: drawn blood unrecognized at the first facile glance, like rapturous sniping taking a huge chance on exchange value: looped targets apply peace, or try to, anyway: it's frutless to punch at the air listlessly, smoking another day minus your singular taula rasa: wrinkles agitated at the mere thought of her accursed face choking you: check the cellular at the door, Frankenstein: remembered six beers of feeling later stamped a poem into the warmth of our own ecstastic breath: suddenly barred for life: nebulae interested in leaving track-marks on your yellow fluourescent rim-job: uncaring flower technology appraised in a flash, tossed aside for the sheer nihilism of it: worn flesh gasping, gaining speed on flickering lessons learnt in puerile fantasy modes left upturned on the bathroom floor: sexy old jacket allure: pounding house beats compete with the machine in all of us preserved eternally in pools of rot: marajuana cheeks, indigenous grace meet sultans of swat on the precipice of hardcore addiction: you were simply lovely, sparked as you were in that skimpy summer dress: fixed your burn pretty early in the day: no more cursing: don't even try to tell me now that you didn't feel it, too: guttural humming over the aura protruding from my foreskin explodes like schizophrenia from a million dollars: sixty-four minutes into money owed to us: two old ladies dressed as cowboys always right on the beat-whump: chanting missiles falling around me in the land of the free without you, baby: chemical maintenance as triceps and pectorals slip what passes for crimson into the start from the stop: a mysterious beef with your wings ducking chairs tonight: mortar shells blaring from the juke-box in the early afternoon slaughter of innocents: stave off the need for work, forced labour for chimps feeding bananas directly into the mouth of big-business blinded by twelves intoning heavenly rolls of the dice: last gulp of the night, tips fed into reclining each day: big shiny teeth flashing a look of love so blue-tongued and guileless: smelling blonde locks soaked in kerosene: typos another form of virus cracked at the heart of not-so-long-ago orgasms: creeping nihilism destroyed images of a lovely wife cleaning furtive vales, no longer an elephant of desire to explain language to the besmirched: regional dialect debauchery left at the corner of everything said vertically: a coldness focused firmly on the forlorn: new depths scorched open the vortex in bright lights, big city, my ass: this is sheer misery, ennui and sordidness glued to pastry: walking endlessly through desolation our only alcohol: not even alive enough to make new knowledge sexy anymore: a new coldness lost my pussy: obsessed by the espionage of the streets buying you another heart to burst: still dancing the cell-phone dance, kicking in at seventy-seven bales of pain sprayed on the walls of the shelter: hastily sketched dragon lairs: the loss, the waste scooped by used porno magazines for ten dollars: every death pounded magically into the grains of the table: paradise kept locked safely away in love killing us all softly with its kiss: good looks wanting it all half a pitcher at a time: wretched laugh sets a jab at warm loaves of desperate moon: neolithic wandering for a rip-off time: solitary turning portraits into wine and crack working rear-wheel tricks for one more twenty before oblivion dismantles us: the search as a wall of haze: confusion a startling transcendence goodbye: did we ever belong here in the strictly phonetic, I wondered as burning brown corpses moved into their representation?: drunk again in that rhythm alley-cats channel to the hilt of the crowd: atmospheric perfection walked us home: holding hands as though we were an item tipping the dream: no more need to meet sexy singles in our email: chuckles your ego on fire in the mirror: sour, dour faces never saluted with midnight's cruel passing diss on the poor: electric fields of terse Otherness leading a life of forced crime done dirt cheap: material attraction in the folds of lust: broken hearts, broken bodies pick up the line to decency sometimes walking that mile straight into the muddy river-banks waiting patiently with its bra unfastened: a close watch choked this darkening room as the sorry hour rapidly approached: sex invaded death for a brief nanosecond, my cock left flaccid in your hungry mouth: flown hush fifty percent a day remembers arpeggiated blocks of misery under tank fire in the colonies: lithe and limber wool incongruously perched amidst all this barley and hoppery drama: kindness independent from textual eros: slam a hard-earned fiver into soft returns before violence devours sublimity again, leaving only charred husks of banality in empty eyes: indented agony boots working me for more, always more: it never fucking stops around here: chance empathy over drinks scouring the global gutter for packets of atrophy: dystopian bundles sitting cross-legged, serene, laughing hideously at all of us: this is where losers come to suffer horribly for awhile, then die

10 comments:

murmurists said...

nice piece robert. '...buttocks knocking against nothing wrong mixing zyprexa with copious amounts of gleaming html code...'. lovely.

cocaine jesus said...

i was listening recently to a uk dj. the aging bob 'whisper' harris. the man has been around for nearly forty years and is remembered for having said something unpleasant about ROXY MUSIC circa 1972.
he also commented on how he thought that there was this air of arrogance about them.
not nice to be arrogant but reading your words robert and seeing how well this site is going makes me understand how ROXY MUSIC must have felt.

a wonderful tour de force this post!

Aaron Held said...

you never fail to amaze me with the images in your writing

murmurists said...

totally agree with aaron. re-reading just gets better, robert.

Robert said...

thanks a lot all of you for the incredibly kind words

yes, CJ, you are right this place is ON FIRE lately...the energy is incredible and totally inspiring

Lazare said...

exceptional. devastating.

i'll have to repress myself HARD not to plagiarise this.

kek-w said...

Woooooah: Rob!!!!

Robert said...

Lazare, please plagiarize away if you wish

i myself have an entire blog devoted to (ahem) rhizomatic writing, and i was even supposed to be working on a chapbook devoted to the form

blog's here:

http://dubology.blogspot.com/

Lazare said...

yeah, i'm aware of the blog.

fine. i may plunder it. call it rhizomatic reshaping collaboratory...

free plastic surgery for apes in back.

Jaie said...

man, this is so good.