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HEADlines - The Nocturnal Hearings of Gore: lou dallas - 1. The Prospect: lenny bellows - Venice Beach: lou dallas - London will have to WAIT: lenny bellows - RIP BIG GUY: lou dallas - Faith No More Live at Download (last weekend): lou dallas - The Meat Problem (Blood is Not Gear Adrift): lenny bellows - Pestilence and Denim: lou dallas - Rinse Daily: lou dallas - Messner Couloir: lou dallas - Phantom Troll: lou dallas - Fondle the Planets: lou dallas - Don Quixote in Drag: lenny bellows |
7.02.2009
The Nocturnal Hearings of Gore doom massacre training the murder
like a level of goats on education with violence and organic behavior, the lightning pickles or objective world coffee compelling aggressive love meetings and Hyper-Paleolithic hostility of Alabama and literature dying in quotes, it turns out your 360 is a 57 and a hand on your balls in velvet picks the teeth of SATAN 7.01.2009
1. The Prospect Frescoes rubbed from Frozen thyroids From pony cadavers when The ponies are androids freely manufactured on outskirts Edge City This platonic cave --- where we store the weapons for Bionic Revolution Armegeddon for the Crows Asleep while Loki stole your soul Awake in the Break Fast Nook a sophomore sweats - his symbiote computer turned on red drops glow across the crumbling bridge of his quaking nose and his worrisome eyes are riveted on Information his droopy lips pursed and pulsing with venom an antique automobile horn wails and the cat named Psychotics jumps onto the stage and hisses in rage at the Sophomore whose very presence in the kitchen is an abomination against the City and capricious Gods and the Rules of the Ledge 6.30.2009
Venice Beach Tourmaline belly nugget in the corner of an eye embedded in porno waxings at a trendy Westlake bistro, well within smell of espresso machines and diabolical fabric dealers on creak jizz maniacal darkness cowboys building a bridge to the sun Memories of sweating labia retreating like the scolding hand of a cirrus cloud on the new moon, reaching deep up into the cavity and testing pH levels for acidity, enveloping microbial panzer biographies or small ants or fabric with many numbers in this the collapsed tent of God. 6.25.2009
London will have to WAIT  " Where thou falls to the ground is primal indication of godliness inherent in human spirit." - Willy Lompoc RIP RIP BIG GUY  1958-2009 6.18.2009
Faith No More Live at Download (last weekend) 6.15.2009
The Meat Problem (Blood is Not Gear Adrift)  A rancid meme that percolates within the human wave that stirred with salt and tumbling void grows with liquid and fleshly matter and dies in circular these sublte interpretations Godhead that recreate the Taste of Truth or at least One Version compromised by Another 6.14.2009
Pestilence and Denim Too late to undulate,
we begin to emotionally base, stagnation and pockets on the floor competing with nipples, hard nipples, which is why you don't see obese cripples pushing themselves through chain groceries, even for Oaxaca cheese or Angus beef, not without binoculars are these, so close to pornography, fisting the waxed Asians of HDMI-fed beasts, sucking up the same as Peavey, believe the tree. Rinse Daily 6.12.2009
Messner Couloir  Carradine sex forays of the night unyielding of the transformational orgasmic ascension nectar candy affiliates still waiting still waiting for the black women of the darkness so cold, so cold, sweating in Patagonia long Johns, soaking in death and regret for insulting techies 6.11.2009
Phantom Troll Government lesbian monopoly in the signature line 6 turning out to be 9, 9 inches of power chords on sudden nr=e and Italian plastic Io sending shadows to Ethiopia. 6.10.2009
Fondle the Planets  Disperse the negative vibes what! The gays took jumping jacks and put come on hippie gumbo; what is left but our burger drive-thrus and personalized license plates? 100 miles of mushroom caps providing shade to newts glowing in the G. Don Quixote in Drag  "Don't give milk to those beasts!" he yells at the yellow beaver. (David Bowie intermission - any song will do.) Lord Lou Dallas surveys the nascent Vortex of Destruction. "This feels right, just right, down there in my middling parts." "Ya," replies his Yurok gardener. "They already have a head full of arrogance." "Nark," replies the tame beast of his sciatica soul. "Who fears the Father of Lies, save the Truth Teller?" (For he mingles in concentration and deals black hands of Pestilence Poker - that game that see damned souls begging at the Fount of Consciousness.)  |
