The Twitstat Poems II.
(thus far untouched)
No starvation, Broadway
Cool beans feeling food with yr hands and feet
addicted you’ll get your fingernails dirty
and find food tastes better once you get to know it.
The spell lingers…
Satie made mincemeat of 200 hat boxes by using radio that never turns off.
I hear it’s home
farm feeling affirming years of far fun kites
organic food found hiding in stalks something real:
milk, money, missing parts.
i wanted a wound so you could heal me
Hear friends doing feeling found
esta everything is part party play
read safari, read the invitations made
most names mean something.
Smart stuff, network oil for the thinking town.
1. Pretty Reasons for Filming True Friends and Others
* Most already believe in love * Most at least try to hear the missing thoughts * Care * Change * Seriously better beer, and a lot of cool details
2. Lotsa Soup Means Awesome Noodle
* Listening live yeah, making new work, new words * Ha ha here, dinner and a pantsless party * in the cool country tonight * you can join quietly or storm in * wearing what you were born in
Sittin in that old metal folding chair
To to the peach tree whisper soft lips and scent
No no retreat from the long beach where bodies will not relent.
To to elaborate, Woman, it may be ok,
it may in any language taste the same when you call out fuck and game,
when you really drive it, and when yr soon
if you’re not getting wet the best kiss consumes
and you know you recognize it, and it you in your sexy room.
Van Halen and the record of La Roq
Money moments of course
on the other hand: if you think about it:
empty cameras painting your bedroom with someone else’s deck of magick cards.
Your cash, oil switch,
Your gruff wonderful words whose true name is Love.
Your bash belly-dancing curves.
Your non-stick non-stop walls vibrating in the impossible church.
_ C/W
Link man met the morning music feeling every note in the big picture show,
ever noting the strange stuff, the techie things ‘tween us,
old offers in the happy head trying to make it through feeling stupid,
trying to make it go dueling cupid and the throes, if you follow.
Damn, hope would not let me go despite my shriveling act only known as apathy-ego,
mr. cool-done-doing, mr. social something-or-other, mr. big ‘ol yesterday imagining a marvel
through the window leaning on the pane’s chipped paint.
_07 C/W
5.7 love wasn’t work / wasn’t isn’t old / but was is form more worthy. love wasn’t pointless storks / wasn’t isn’t bored / but was is born. either idea scores / big soundy star-stuff / free and prettier folklore / funny ladies made of statues casting shadows on identity / and love wasn’t hidden under floor or carpet dirt / wasn’t isn’t just a flirt / but was is written / on no heart left unhurt… i don’t know. you tell me.
_016 C/W
actually, another near breakdown
another cool business call love
like yr the media listening in on every person’s thoughts
twisting simple meanings and might into long elitist magazine articles.
The Twitstat Poems III.
huge hope super-colored thinking everyone will be alright in making their sounds, in opening their sacks of light, picking their pretty peaches
whoa wonderstuff, big cool listening lotsa love,
something special in store, something free but worth much more,
something few and far between everything, open sesame doors
Globe CW / Reckon
Wrote a thing or two
watching warm wonderful wish
turned on by a book.
Globe-CW / Reckon
Ah haiku happened
to make happy the love notes
lost in the movie
Globe-CW / Reckon
agree anyway
agree away
sometimes it’s better not to look.
doesn’t it like a dog get you down?
the longing, the constant runaround,
screeching city sounds and same ol’ same ol’?
start thinking – yr in a rated x movie talking music but the dinosaurs have become a problem (they abuse it)
Globe-CW / Reckon
sleep, worker.
coffee up the mail the man a marketing plan;
it’s friday’s big account bin following all the fun at the chat barrel.
Globe-CW / Reckon
r3ckon 