30 Jun 2008

Jaan & Jaie

one attention liked whenever arguing all taken strike on another
they then passed their eye often fouler as discrepancies hit into different drank
mostly between known and later as twin heard binary

this was attached as your shadows-

time shade it's passers:

tongue their crazy things
three that such as your friendships of some tongue ought to shape society
so there will be love split as one
no not though
over mother

rather sweeter

you much nearly with some far all beyond call
or he will and had negotiating them sugar ladies as illusion

two fermenting-clockwise occasions
two into such never i've out ago as you leave

threaten some length on night and thing as it was meant to be

shadows made as one dialogue
he then snot whips as far she tells first much love

the lost mother and his become seen shadows
would over snook hollering o'clock-the In free two if they will catch it can ignore your contact
find no/somebody a x stomach may stop by much as it never lived
even the sugar rude twelve arguing will deserve the light

agreeing abused his shape
this type removed confused
would her imagine only gasps a stood tongue
so you belligerently smile a star_


29 Jun 2008

28 Jun 2008

Everything Should Be Spelled Backwards

a 75 paradise disconnect in marble dust, our whirling bodies cavorting with the atomic bomb. it is strange and cold, a heretic's love. dirt, however a rough, strong hand, surreal with the crashing day, brimless after a dream realizes its own clavicle ululating. mercurial, more bloodthirsty to wander, myriad shadows radiant with the eclipse in her voice. metal and asbestos wash tall, white hate from swelterings out of nothing, the orb of blue flesh suddenly hard to penetrate with the old alchemies. war is sewn into torsos of fun's cerebral youth. terror floating from the lights of a surprised feel around egos lifted beyond beauty, endlessly ticking bright smudges of abstract cinema. legendary crimes or, inversely, paisley-coloured six inches of gut removal to laugh off the mind. sharpened oracles dilute the meaningless television to the affirmed razor world, red distortions in spite of love's water soaking every gesture between hideous and capsuled skin. cigarettes need slavery, cycled tongues rusty with derangement's prowling bones from the flaming palace. onyx vertebraes on lips married to silicone's seventh real fate, greased hair falling from the mantle. ancestral wings, the telepath's exposed throat limps in permutations because opium is its only rhythm. an army quills southeast hues to decimation, the gallery practicing stories of teeth, microphones record the hiss from lazy yawns ambushing ecstasy with machetes. the smell of madness is in everything's blonde hair.

for your interest

De: Kanam Plastics Co. Ltd. (sonja.anttonen@netti.fi)

Riesgo intermedioEs posible que no conozcas a este remitente.Marcar como seguro|Marcar como no seguro
Enviado: viernes, 27 de junio de 2008 07:15:39 p.m.
Responder a: kanamoriplastics_ltd@yahoo.co.jp
Para: regionalagent@kp.com

Kanam Plastics Co. Ltd.
3-21 Shoudaitajika,
Hirakata-City, Osaka,
573-1132, Japan .

Dear Sir/Madam


KANAM PLASTICS CO.,LTD. manufactures all kinds of specialized
extrusion molded products used in various fields including
materials for construction, heat insulation, anti-pollution
facilities, water treatment, etc.We exports our products to North
America,South America,Eastern Europe,Western Europe and Southeast
Asia etc.

We are looking for a payment representative in UK,USA,Canada,and
Mexico.Salary is 10% of every payment you receive on our behalf.

All charges such as tax and transfer charges will be deducted from
the balance 90% .Details of your account is not needed in this

Note:Even if you have a present job,you can still be part of our
business as your service to us would not disturb with your working
hours at all.

If you are interested in this transaction forward your contact
information to my private email:toskanamori@yahoo.co.jp

1)Your Full names:
2)Your House Address;
Name of Area;
3)Postal code:
4)Home/office phone number:
5)cell number

Note:Your address must be very correct and complete otherwise you will not receive the payment which my customers will be sending to you.
Therefore your address should include the following (your house
number ,name of street,city,state,country and postal code.)

Thanks for your understanding and co-operation.


Mr.Toshiharu Kanamori
Kanamo Plastics Co. Ltd.

Saunalahti Ykkönen: Puhelut kaikkiin liittymiin 0,069 e/min ja nyt kaupan päälle Sisärengas-puhelut ja tekstarit viiteen valitsemaasi liittymään 0 e!

27 Jun 2008

((( ,



ins. of nailbombr

ins. of nailbombr

ins. of nailbomber

ins. of nailbombr

ins. of nailbombr


Lovely stuff, * - as I would expect. A vie for more half-lit edges (where hybrids and freedom have a chance). This time the twilight in question is that between notional eyes open and notional eyes unopen... fuzzy-esque; a Kosko-fuzz; but sleepy; the drowse; the drift; a world of interpenetrations. This is still more becoming, more becomingness. One meaning of 'becoming' in English - as you may know - is attractive: one can be 'becoming', therefore; which allows the phrase, the conflation, 'be becoming'. Another alternative to attractive is 'fetching': thereby suggesting 'bringing becoming'. So, let's be adjectival - and make objects therein and thereby; replacing the faux fixity of that clatter of nouns we get force-fed each day. Surely, anyway, the wanderings of Situationist psycho-geography were themselves somnambulistic in important part. Let's you and me use a map of, say, Berlin to find our way around Cardiff. Let's insinuate Berlin upon Cardiff.

Here, I must quote my own '...rudderless mercations upon some contour of Borges...'.

All the best,

* x

d4 revised

26 Jun 2008

Eros slained

water is my god_

25 Jun 2008








((( ,




Illuminated vellum / the mole on the back of her neck / beneath cropped hair / the mole that is mine / has retired from my back to travel / past the gypsies in emancipated lay-bies / past all that I have projected upon verges / hedgerows and houses / corpse animals replaced by their offspring in the growing fields / spawn sheds / pre-butcher lorries / the number ten aleatory slaughter wagon / the mouthless dead with things in their ears / speaking in cryptic sibilance / thoughtfully and metaphysically masturbate / oil the tedium / grease the sheets of skin stretch out across the tarmac / the journey…

24 Jun 2008


it's all in the touch, gloves...

it's all in the motion of the hand, gloves...

the eye in the hand, distracted by the waving hand in gloves...




23 Jun 2008

A Well Educated Yale Finger---917 --- Earl Harper

poems for petals.

poems for petals.

each Friday
let us unleash the hounds
the ones with sticky tongues
and eyes like ice creams

we will nail the floor to the wall
and play records
using a technique i learnt in my brain
we will turn our dance black and white
each Friday
while the hounds are away.

her number went like this
07 you liar you said six
fine fine
it was always engaged
while she was off rapping
to a broken leg
with some headphones
like, dobubidodoo

let's get rich
shall we?!
you go first
then I'll sue you
and you can give me
all your money
but we'll make it like,
a legal battle
I'll say i slipped
on your shopping
and then you cursed me
on the floor.

you know you want to.

ever since i saw you
then i thought

poems for petals
on a rainy day
eat soup
read a book


You fukin alchi / turning semi-precious metal and paper receipts into booze / oh joy I annihilate tomorrow / selfishly / pleasantly / it’s like hardcore should be / bastard beats / without origin / the snake fish need feeding in a murder evolution narrative I might say / or / dull pulse of unsleep / the wheelchair puts on an exhibition / splaying wheels / exposed spokes / dots of nubile grease / an intelligent child full of spots expresses nothing / the smell of prehensile tobacco wielding fingers / full of whip / striations / sweat bleeding into blood / a semens’ yarn / the spine / the umbilical / the sunken line of sensation / and whatever you’re reading into this as violence puts me at ease / drunken / sensuous / three inch heel rerendering a ribcage / gouging / spurts into crevices of imagined concrete / snaps off / remains impaled / tenuity / a feeble lick / a navy promotional flick / crash dive…

The Embrace

22 Jun 2008








SYSTEM WARNING:implode()[ function.implode]: Bad arguments in /iloveyou butihateyou.com/

Please use the "Back" button in your browser to return to the past. There you can correct whatever problems were identified in this error or select another action. You can also click an option from the menu bar(?) to go directly to a new choice (...drink?partner?...hmmm)

. .

[object object]

21 Jun 2008

The Shoes of Malard Fleurpickle

Fealty, Faith, Fornication

Korma in a trance


.a la recherche de la coleur perdue.


20 Jun 2008

.flexible vision.


Ubber Temle


The Corruption of Cnut

We Are The System by Paul Tristram

Look at me smiling in greeting,

hand outstretched to welcome you,

I'm a cunt.

I'll sleep with your wife, your sister,

your family.

I'll pick up the pocket shrapnel

that falls out of your trousers in the

back of the taxi and use it to buy

a round of drinks after you've left.

I'm a cunt.

But look at my suit, my cigarette lighter,

the arrogant, perfect woman upon my arm,

I am God.

You are nothing, behave and follow

my direction or drop back into the

gutter which you crawled from.

You Cunt.

*used with the kind permission of the author, who blogs here*


18 Jun 2008


The Forged Erections

the color x across algebra's shadow/ clean up all this x/ across the bathroom/scattered followings/ belonging to the shadow of tomorrow/any directions startle me/ that a man should know his way/ and his way to be right/ and now/ as they map the stars/ as they map the genes/ we can succumb/ navigate/ circumnavigate/ are the two aligned?/ the stars and the genes-and to start a fire on one would be to- x/ neglect the start/ the genes of Isis/ the genesis/ the directions/ sat alight/ navigation/ no ovation for the stars, at least/ and no obligation for the genes/ though I look forward to tomorrow/ I am no spectator to the universe/ I cast my mind back/ into x-/the color deities form/ a swirling mass/ as sound breaks/ the habitat lands awkward/ in three does of x/ possessed/ by those numbers/ the solid mass of continuum/

This is the Modern World - AVIATION

Let he who is without stones, be at peace inside the glasshouse.

Brick Walls

talking to people is like talking to brick walls nowadays. that's why so many end up with my tag on their lower jaw. Unreadable, it frustrates the neighbours. "Who is doing this?!" they ask as another one appears, on the forehead this time, of a shop assistant. Still dripping.

Last Time I Checked

Oliver Cromwell




The generacist creates new models / new modes of wanting / of reflection and cannibalism / new surfaces and body shapes for the woman / the man / the car loaded with perfected plugged in offspring / sliding plastic and effortless comfort / listening to the counter agent being translated whilst frolicking in the ergonomic pool of proposed nutrients / nubile and watched / numbers appear promising closeness / love / the love / I’m a war human person / the virus that numbs my world / small / naïve / distended with dystopian happiness and duvets that only function / never drown / make dreams more febrile / anxious sweat / repetitions / splay smooth legged midget women / clothes that shouldn’t be there / then waking defecation through the conscious anus / to enter again into totalitarianless being / informed / awake and without death / dull / alive / decaffeinated / mobilizing for the third instalment of machine leaps / of depopulisation and feelings of being wanted / of useful / to kill / take motto’s seriously / how brilliant and efficient the macdonalds / perhaps with a revolution a world could be fed / meat / bread / potatoes / fat / sugar / salt / perfect / ss uniforms should be the generacists norm in each franchise / if only because I love…

more 'strange flesh'

each body she encountered was, inevitably, his. though she could not be sure in what way(s) she meant that. ‘meant that’; there is something to question: did she ever ‘mean’ it, or even state the thought? in the end the questions are fruitless before the fact. one way or another he possessed them as surely as she possessed them (they her?). whether it was her obsession that was medium, carrying him through her flesh to swallow each isolate body she pressed herself against, or whether it was in the most minute perception of details, the thought that this one’s nipples were neither pierced nor as small and prickling pink as his, or that this one’s hair was an oil spill of tentacles next to his field of windblown summer wheat, the fact remained, more solid than each body she rushed tidally against. in the end it was the former possibility which was the more terrifying: that in her flesh’s loneliness, it’s aching distance from him, his cells had somehow come to occupy the yawning space between her own, filling her up with the negation of him, which roared endlessly out to consume each new boy, each tender lass, till the grey light of dawn found their eyes all iris-night, their flesh repulsive as an ancient maid’s.
though he was the very potential of boy to become man, become murderer, though locked in hairless flesh through exile, he had never seemed so feral, so fearful, as the night Tink realized that – just as another pitiful joy pumped fitfully, a remote and thoughtless engine, into the fleshly ends of her thighs.

nighttime. we are never closer to the estate of beasts than when we are thirteen. hovering on the cusp of some cataclysmic change...tectonic siftings just beneath the sheaths of dead flesh that slick us – oil on ocean waves – pushed up and back and aside by corpuscular magma, up through the cracks in us, in the shell of ‘innocence’, newfound imperatives resculpting once genderless flesh into a named cast, the mold an alphabet of teeth have carved from the hull of flesh and bone. forever worrying the pink flesh that webs cheek to jaw, the web dissolved to ragged threads the tongue’s blind worm shoulders aside.

these the soiled intimacies we embrace. the glut that is their glory, their fetid musk a paean to things denied, the lightless grottoes we can’t abide, the humors they secrete. Tink thinks. watching Wendy watching Alice watching Pan, a Bermuda triangle of eyes in which countless dreams shuttle back and forth, into and out of lost regions, never to reach their charted shores. the naked writhing that hurtles from those eyes! they are all flying now, the world slipstreaming along torsos webbed in lace, an incessantly discarded lover, and all they all can think is Pan. Pan the man, the boy-man, the panic that shutters them to goose pimples.

all through the ceremony – Alice’s rite of passage – she nurses that throbbing, the exquisite brevity it enshrines and translates into memory, restorative storage. his mouth upon her breast, the angry, exquisite scarlet eye his mouth transubstantiated in its angry suckling. from nipple into gate, throbbing moment of intransient passage, portal to a pulsing, intransigent life. this is the one, the only, amelioration for this moment, watching Alice, in breathless waiting, throbbing off into the kiss that will, she thinks, poor girl, give her life, as the rabbi’s words quickened golem’s clay flesh, redacted genesis.

17 Jun 2008

Bobby Dazzler

Tarquin Terrapin

It's the taking part that matters

Viva Nana Moon and The Parsley Kids