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HEADlines
- JODIE FOSTER CHILD: lou dallas


- Blame Carrot Top: lou dallas


- Goat Binder: lou dallas


- Wut ime dewing now: lou dallas


- one blood: lou dallas


- The Time is Almost Nigh: lenny bellows


- KITTLES!: lou dallas


- Try Poe Me, Scares: lenny bellows


- Poetry scares me: Lance


- Extemporateous Prose 1.0 (10 min.): Lance


- To Defeat Pure Evil: lenny bellows


- tongueinwifebung: lou dallas


- klassik bellows: lou dallas



6.01.2002
JODIE FOSTER CHILD

Italian meat vipers spoiling
high-skirt ponytail
in the lamp light

traders grunt and heave
in the pre-dawn toil,
breath ghosts wrapping around

pine odor and five girls
with panties.




Blame Carrot Top

galy_.jpg




Goat Binder

good enuf that they will win at home
for the cowbell sanctum league -

50 mile ride
got me shitting rain -

peace to the hizoes.




5.31.2002
Wut ime dewing now

INXS, sans guy-that-hung-himself,
is doing a soundcheck across the marina
at Humphrey's,
doing the ones I remember from back in the deigh.

I am drinking Black Seal with Coca Cola and ice.
I am enjoying Nets vs. Celtics.
I am praying for Kings vs. Celtics.

Jah Rule!




one blood



The Time is Almost Nigh

As the red sunset comes down over the evil that is
the Anti-Christ and his minions, the True Belivers see victory
so close, yet still so far away. Kill the Wookie Demon and
his tricky imp Sobe.




5.30.2002


Don't ya know you wanna
shock the monkey?

Mammoth






mmmmmm...

nothing says happiness
like a shaved girl in the background...

must find one...






has anyone seen my pants?

oops! here comes the train...




5.29.2002
KITTLES!





Try Poe Me, Scares

The lung rivers flow into squeamish edgy territory
Sitting in a van in front of Safeway
High on psychedelia
Repeating as a mantra, two mens: "42 spleens, 42 spleens."

The park is closed after dark. Sorry.




Poetry scares me

I don't know enough good words... so I string a bunch of bad ones together and hope it doesn't make sence. This is a much safer place to stretch one's legs... get a little life flowing to the extremities of a bloodless body.




Extemporateous Prose 1.0 (10 min.)

and floating in transluscent goo, enriched with corrosive proteins which will eventually skinandeat me to the bone. PROTEIN GETS OUT PROTEIN! The barium in my belly (and below) let them watch it all in stereo hi-fi, like a movieoftheweek staring entrails, excrement, and suffering; already smoothed my blemished skin, erased my scars, and working like liquid ticks to get at the muscle. No concern for that receeding hairline now! Sorry Mr. Bolsey, I'm sorry I can't can't take advantage of your progressive new methods - try my dad! No worries on the lease, the mortgage, and OH CHRIST the credit debt debt - now that's the true hell, not this. not life as a science experiment, not envisioning your entire body dissolved to the core, centrifuged, separated and shot into space like the rest of them. not feeling your brain race your sanity to the nearest backdoor exit, nearest icecream man... no, atleast I don't have to worry about that




5.28.2002
To Defeat Pure Evil

You must
ring a cow bell.




5.26.2002
tongueinwifebung



:::::::::::::::::

loose masters of the synagogue riflery,
bow before the digital grill, chilling poses notwithstanding.

You show me the right disco donkey, friend?

Candle shooters bring dry lightning fist.

Top dog money litter genulflects pine solids.

Genuine pole-sitters wave candidly at the unseen directive.

The Lou is true fir gone mustard in Venus.

The Bellows are heaving for Thine.

The Bali is true pyramid shadow.

The Cairo is drifter lunacy.

The end is never near...spastic
fantasy evertold, gears and bravery
alone are bull's eye slap.

You need not worry because
you are reading this. You need
no other reason. Don't worry.

Crumbling silver shards beset the closet intimacy --

eversloping navel ride.




klassik bellows

Don't they know that I can not just deal with this right now? I can not this minute even speak
or write right. My face is rubbery, like a Betty Boop Halloween mask. I feel like I have had too much
butterscotch pudding. Drug, in all it's contexts defies reason. They asked me to put the
horse shoe on the other donkey. A tough situation, even for a suburban cowgirl like
Linda Lou. But she wasn't there then, anyway, to help me. See what I mean? My mind is
completely finagled and buttressed with transcendent bullshit. Or what did Kesey say?
"Transcend the Bullshit." --- with albums like the Scorpions
BLACK OUT
---possibly one of the greatest rock albums ever produced. That damn drummer
Rarebell hypnotizing me, and that gosh darn Klaus reading verse from the
Chaucer primer.

they make me giggle so I curl in a ball inside my closet next to the dresser with the
black light crackling above me and various moths exploring the contours of my mind
skipping like happy lost school girls dazed on heroin and self-control the pinches
against my chest are irritating and I cannot see to watch them surface through the
skin and bubble out into the atmosphere which is slowly disappearing down my
throat and back to my to my lungs and back out through my chest and I can not blink
to save Schenker's life - the soul is polluted with evolution - it leaves stretch marks
on the ugly pock-marked face of Don King --- he kneels down and prays
to Mike Tyson's asshole. Why?
posted by lenny bellows at 16:36