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Feed items 1 - 5 of 5 for March 2008

Word Soup (Scratch Pad)

Select scribblings from the walls of my cell -- provided the guards approve

insurgency - March 22, 2008

our love is an insurgency it fights the tide in long, lonely mile in passwords and in code
http://www.wordsoup.com/poetry/archives/2008/03/insurgency.html

Ad Agency Love - March 10, 2008

he was a fifty foot billboard of smoldering metal and Calvin Kleins shot straight out of the boardroom and into the daily think a ceramic reconstituted DIck Clark with an android angel's grin wrapped in an airtight sex and wisdom PVC coating liquified and injected into our rattling, battling skull filling us up with bitter almond inadequacy like liquid mercury she was an ambulatory blue ball hijink fuck apostle still slick from the ad agency's short skirt pump parades rattling heads from a...
http://www.wordsoup.com/poetry/archives/2008/03/post_5.html

blood widow wind - March 5, 2008

And so it goes with rotgut clothes and fingers spread out on the floor Tokyo's dead and the priesthood has said there's a blood widow wind at the door
http://www.wordsoup.com/poetry/archives/2008/03/blood_widow_win.html

mindless - March 2, 2008

dark metal hands crank out cantankerous applause basked in engine oil and chain smoke this town feels like a mudpuddle being stomped in by a retarded child on a sugar high dim men living hard lives, propped up by dumb, bruised women suckling dumb, bruised children If it were summer I'd envy them like early Sam Clemens I'd sings songs like Bob Dylan get hard over simple living but I ain't seen the sun in twelve days and all I can think about stuck in this traffic jam is how they're all...
http://www.wordsoup.com/poetry/archives/2008/03/mindless.html

sycophant (song in G-Minor) - March 1, 2008

He's a rattled slat sycophant a stumbling, bumbling deviant a double chinned greasy wheeled money man selling guns to tots for gold His brothers and sisters are obstacles commoditized hot-heated Popsicles Just like mud-puddles under his chariot or cotton pills plucked from his clothes He worships a mass market fealty a contrived message plastic reality Where inadequate sheeple all scurry for parts in a play that he trademarked last June We could wish for his death, or epiphany But his...
http://www.wordsoup.com/poetry/archives/2008/03/sycophant.html
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