—to one's own company
(original working title: the music you play)
are these leaves pure green tea,
to steep in a cup
designed so quaintly?
i know a type of
music, but not all things
jazzy
because there
could be drill rap music
which they—call—
classy
it's not a pretty picture
anymore for a degenerate
generation,
i think transnationalism
somehow creates a
nation
i just hope we don't fall
victim to this wake of
insanity—
to be foisted, with gradual
influence—to one's own
company—
kulturang banyaga
kulturang
banyaga
kulturang
kahanga-hanga
aking natagpuan
sa 'di kalayuan
akin siya,
akin siya!
magpakailanman—
thing theory
all are just these props
our heartbeats untranslated
iconoclasm
befriending the plants—
befriending the plants
the good plants and the bad plants
to tell which ones are—
consensus of hyssops
don't interpret me,
language of false complaisance;
for we are humans
whether you like me or not,
to say you do is just fake—
Forest I
Sleeping while awake
A log must notice mushrooms
—Feeding off of him
There is a Jesus fetus
And condoms on my tree,
Because today is Christmas--
And Christmas is PC.
My Santa is a lesbian,
Her skin is dark as night--
She came along with tranny Claus
With clitoral delight.
She promised free abortions,
Free tests for HIV,
While spreading guacamole
On my GBLT.
I thought I was in heaven,
I thought I was in hell,
When I heard Santa moaning
Hoe-moe with anal bells.
For Christmas is for giving
Your lover in the rear--
So rejoice my little ones
And spread the Christmas queer.
December 25, 2013