alpha won end one first all.

a brief sample of fermented universe ovulating maggot vinegar, wrapped up in cellophane and sold as knock off novelty cerebral fluid.

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[left]

a neanderthal, teetering like a car on the edge of a cliff in movie X, but on the edge of sanity, falling meaning sound mindedness, sips a burning ounce of narciseptic utterance in sham imitation of goerge clooney. i've got words cause now I know alphabit. see my teeth are like my initiative. sharpened to the point of invisibility. ludus* for the poor. ludus for the poor. am i the big cheese or is this just all pizza? pixilated fantasies curl like a wedding band around the pointer finger of luxury. a drunken mob speaks their truth, "mar the super golden Apollo for illumination is a lie!" The sun appears at five am. burns their unconscious rambling flesh machines, and what smell better suited for the gods than burning fat? the gods love joggers. i don't care either way. therefore, i'm not a god. god is a maggot. maybe i'm a human balancing on the edge of time. teeth versatile for grinding and tearing the finely tuned sunlight into the rythem and direction of my inertia. and 'the gods', they are just the sharpened initiative of great men tearing the vocal chords of prey complex. Completly natural like. Graceful, an apache stalking deer in the red plains of the collective unconsciouse. Hide your good deeds and your bad deeds alike. Blessed are the invisible for they shall inherit whatever they can reach. Don't ever say don't ever say or you'll end up like i began.









*ludus means both education and 'play'.

Author's Note

i'm sure spelling and grammar are off. i don't care. besides that, i made up a word, 'narciseptic', what the hell is wrong with me? I don't know but I do. Say whatever you want, i'm not vindictive or overwhelmingly insecure. what do you think of the 'poem'?

Reviews

[Joseph D. Watkins]

I could puke on this current and we both would snicker about it tomorrow, if you catch my drifter sister red handed, tell her jopsy is lopsided. They all every one keep cathedrals of pure light oscillating in their single center, and how, when blood is so thick and rank, is it, that we are really just so many eyes forever? No wait those aren't eyes, but many small revolving mirrors, each one periodically reflecting my own - like blinking bullfrogs in a swamp at night, god is my imaginary friend.

[Hedra Helix]

nice stream of conscious, George of clooney fame is mispelled.
I did like it but I think that you had strong points and weaker ones. I think to do these really effectively would be to try to make every sentence, every ounce of this wow the f**k out of someone. And by that f**k grammar but get the spelling perfect so words like narciseptic sucker punch, ya know?

this is my favorite run you had:
Graceful, an apache stalking deer in the red plains of the collective unconsciouse. Hide your good deeds and your bad deeds alike. Blessed are the invisible for they shall inherit whatever they can reach

[kree8ivity]

This is classic Joe writing, clearly foggy and solvably cryptic.
Yet, I like it. I read some of those sentences and I understood depth and meaning the likes of which are not normally thought or expressed.
When I write, I try to consider who will read my writing--if you're writing for yourself, maybe this type of prose is perfectly descriptive of your mental imagery--when other people read the words I choose and try to translate them into visualizations, they should be able to do so easily most of the time and some of the time maybe it will be a little denser. Avoid adventuring into verbosity; if every word and sentence of my writing has a 'job' within the collective piece, then I'm doing well... if you read through your writing and you don't even know why you've got some words and sentences or punctuation or whatever else; edit.