Tag Archives: robots

Caring Tan

13 Jun

Caring Tan

 

The sun clung to her skin

like a marching band in soft slippers

 

and when she walked by

the whole world turned into headphones

because she was playing my favorite song

 

it was a marching band version

so it had that tone, and too many trumpets

staring into their cell phones as

the trombones utterly butchered the verses

 

Shit! It’s still a great song though,

no matter how you play it

I counted all the big drums

 

until she was gone

Grass Bat

5 Jun

Grass Bat

 

Her hair was the color of yesterday’s favorite chew toy

and his eyes reminded her of a blue crayon

left to die in the mud

 

their love held on like a bat made out of grass

they lived in a cave surrounded by lawnmowers

but they had a defensive arsenal of dvds

 

and compensable sex parts

and for a while the lawnmowers couldn’t get them

until eventually even the cave turned against them

 

because nothing lasts forever except war

and that goddamn Celine Dion song

I mean, fuck, it just goes on forever

 

unlike the grass bats

a grass bat has the shelf life of a sensitive mammal

made out of uprooted plant clippings

 

(fuck) all these goddamn every day-by-day extinctions

(historic note: that’s how watching

For Your Eyes Only alone was invented)

 

the grass bats are gone

Bank Butt

3 Jun

Bank Butt

 

Hey, Bank Butt

 

Is that where you keep your cautiously-horded investments these days?

Because I’m in need of some saving

and I wouldn’t have thought of keeping it there

 

I’d like to apply for a debit card

What exactly would be the process………….Wait!

I mean, if I ain’t thought of something like that already

(ergo: stashing such things in the butt)

What other things have I forgot to think about?

 

(insert alternate curse-type word for ‘shit and/or fuck: there)

 

What if sharks love Rice Crispy Treats more than people?

My penis is not bigger than that cake pan, damn it

How long has it been again exactly, that I’ve been this

alone?

 

Bank Butts,

A new term made to represent a robot’s interpretation of color

but (not butt)

what are robots supposed to know about finance and anaL?

 

Finance: Shit, most likely a bunch, actually

(Historical Note: as soon as the robots learn greed

like the robots have already learned greed: we’re fucked)

Anal: either,

Pretty much everything there is to be known about all of it

(I miss you)

or …………. nothing at all

Life-arrhea

9 Jul

gamera

 

Life-arrhea

 

This world was shit out

the cosmic ass of an ephemeral

robot built by a mysterious

race of aspartame addicted

space turtles

who live in a multi-dimensional

space ship nicknamed

The Misplaced Toiletpaper

 

(official name Space Shell 1701-64)

 

the robot shit the world out

before collapsing into a jagged pile

of nervous fireworks

 

and that’s how all this was born

 

Due to their stubborn aspartame dependence

the space turtles maintained horrible memories

so when their robot shat out the world

the turtle gods thought

 

“What just happened there?

Did the robot just shit things?”

 

and then they got distracted

by the dark sides of evolution

and a sudden disruption in

their internet connection

when all they wanted to do

was watch The Wire

 

and while not watching

The Wire they forgot

where they shit us

 

and that’s why

we’re so goddamn

alone

While Watching The Bridges of Madison County in Mexico

8 Dec

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While Watching The Bridges of Madison County in Mexico

 

 

outside this room there is a world

with no air conditioning

where the local cough drops pro-port

to contain extra lyptus

and vultures make clumsy

ass passes

at the bikini top sky

 

above trash cans shaped

like ancient pueblo science fiction robots

wired to ack-cent-u-ate the myth

of banana daiquiris

and eat trash

 

the ocean waving how’s shit or so long

 

as:

we get stoned on things purchased

earlier in the day on the beach

from a  guy pretending to sell boat rides

to some make believe island

 

and play water volleyball alone

in the pool at night

 

earlier:

I watched a woman in a bikini w/

necessarily straight posture

attempting to walk her own boobs

across the mezzanine

as birds with pterodactyl like silhouettes

molest what’s left of the sun

 

does my dick make these shorts look fat?

 

this is the sort of thing one either does

or does not think of after retiring for the 1st night

up to his room

 

after switching on the tv:

and looking down from the balcony

at the little roped off kids pool below

 

thinking:

that little kids pool contains around 50% urine

and the woman hovering around it

earlier in the day looked just like Gary Buse-y

 

and how does that happen?

 

around these parts Spider Man

is known as El Hobre Arana

and grape flavored cough drops

contain extra lyptus

 

and everything’s in pescos but written

in dollar signs making it look like

a medium cheese pizza from Dominoes

will set you back one hundred and fifty nine bucks

 

and they’re playing The Bridges of Madison County

on TNT International

did I or did I not swear a blood oath

against that cheesy fucked author

in my youth?

 

his stupid ass brimming with shit like

ra-gu-da and sick cheddar

and now here it is

 

I’ve traveled time zones

and so say fuck it

and don’t look away

 

as their cardboard shadows dance

to 1950’s tv movie radio music

outside the obsolete kitchens of bad drama

 

where everything swims

everything’s e-mace-e-ated

everything melts into painted sour cream

over reacting vampires

were wolves w/ baseball shaped stomachs

 

and Clint Eastwood sleeps w/ Meryle Streep

like she wanted him to and then post all that

he has to sit there in the kitchen

watching her throw his untouched scrambled eggs

into the sink the next morning along with a side order

of her screaming and seething and generally freaking

the fuck out

 

wondering why he don’t scream something back

like:

Look lady, you pinned your note on my bridge!

Not the other way around!

 

or maybe something more sincere like:

 

I love you, if he does

or:

Fuck Wednesday

and the idea of attempting to cram

an entire lifetime into these illusions

of time

that are measured in absence of daylight

 

I’d rather spend the rest of the night

trying to cram my entire life time

into you

 

 

 

(from my book The Aftermath, etc. Monkey Puzzle Press)
(purchase your very own copy at monkeypuzzlepress.com)

In A Shit Nightmare World Without You

2 Dec

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in a shit nightmare world without you

in the future
I’m already drunk again
and two beers will cost
46.50
and the world is haunted
by vampire taxi cabs
downtown has been relocated
robots own fishing poles
death baits things
fish scream

(from my book I See You, Lewis, Baobob Tree Press)