Sunday, October 26, 2014

t.s. khasis


în vagonul 426
am dat de nevasta lui
li po,
nevasta la care 
li po
a sperat atît de mult.

s-a asezat pe bancheta din fața mea
și a desfăcut o pungă
cu bomboane.
treceam prin sinaia.
bomboane roz.
ta-ca-dam ta-ca-dam
cea mai bună solutie
împotriva alcoolismului
e să rămîi
a luat o bomboană,
îi urmăream privirile
ratacite printre crestele
sergiu,îți lipsește curajul,
l-am auzit pe fredy
culcat pe culoarul dintre banchete,
ai freza marilor generali romani
și te caci pe tine de frică.
ta-ca-dam ta-ca-dam
nu ai cerut nimic de la viață,
doar te-ai prefăcut că vrei ceva.
-te-au lăsat toți să-ți faci damblaua.
pe la bușteni lumea parea perfecta.
tînăra soție a lui li po
s-a ridicat și s-a îndreptat
către veceul c.f.r.
m-am gîndit
s-o urmez și să-l imit pe ted bundy,
dar am rămas la locul meu,lîngă fereastră,
am desfăcut o doză
și mi-am ales o casă din bușteni
în care am pus
un cățel mecanic și-un poster cu luna.

Friday, October 24, 2014

Casey Bush

                “The tragedy of sexual intercourse
                Is the perpetual virginity of the soul.” – WB Yeats

During the earliest millennium
Premature aging was noted
Among eunuchs of Egyptian pharaohs
Just as castration of roosters
Leads to atrophy of their red combs
Mystery of aging hidden within the scrotum
It was the Greeks who established that the difference
Between the gods and mere mortals was in the cajones
A fact bemoaned by a besotted Apollo
Too inebriated to properly get it up
While Zeus gathered Rocky Mountain oysters
Consuming a steady diet of bull testicles
In preparation for the rape of Europa
In the heroic Age of Exploration
Conquistadors driven by visions of gold
And sexual enslavement
Falsely pursued their futile quest
To the ends of the Earth
Seeking eternal life in a perpetual New World
Until Ponce de Leon had to be satisfied sipping
An aphrodisiac tea drawn from the Bahamian love vine
Phytogenic substitution for his illusive Fountain of Youth
Still today in our fading patriarchal age
Leather clad geezers straddle motorcycles
Rattling their balls on the way to the saloon
So that they might exercise a death grip on the pool cue
Destined to sink an eight ball in the side pocket
Dreaming of the climatic ocean sunset
Observed from a clawfoot bathtub
Old codger with his dewy gland
Waiting for the prescription to kick in
Hoping to stay out of the emergency room
With a hard on that just won’t stop
Even after the fatal cardiac arrest.

Thursday, October 2, 2014

Paul A. Toth

Corporeal Punishment

insomnia's disquietude
proves the hanging judge
the jury hung dead on its decision
the word on its lips
consonant, obscene
the physician's diagnosis
survives at last all scrutiny
the molested man convicts himself
violates his body as it ceases to exist
his priest and therapist swearing oaths
to Sartre, God and de Beauvoir
the essence of nonexistence
the constellated philosophies
the planetarium that domes
a nightmare copulation
full of blessed pomposities
and even Jean Genet is blushing
as they finger you in darkness
with proof to show you owe
the debts they accumulate
as they thread you with their seeming
stitchery of baby blankets
in the switchery of their roles
confabulating your prosecution
until you confess against yourself
well, it's over now and there's nothing
but the calculation with which it all began
the books cooked and boiling in your brain
speaking of ontology
by which the authors mean

your lack of right to be


                                                                      I am DEGU

      Contributions   -  (text, noiz or visuals) to

                                           any LANGUAGE either unknown or imposed shall be considered.

                  GateKeeper DoruChirodea

Anthony Donovan

ITEM #0107: Since it was born blind, crippled and devolving, as the offspring of Saul and Saudi's constantly breaking necks, Aleppo cannot change its spots, nor its dots and dashes, nor even its ladders for halos_anon, divined anyway by consensus realities sacked from Europe, where the human hand rests upside-down, mechanically groping the highrise Purdah of its own silicon henge. Observations terminate at its very gaze. In the blackness is the stopped stunt clock of Lilith, but attenuated, as Quang Duc, finally extinguished by FDNY, using spermbank Pepsi Max. Simultaneous and connascent, Russia's pyrrhic bomb breathes life into a slue of commemorative victory vampires at the fat wet fart of its own Disney detonation. (Prior to this, only a drive-thru funereal ur-tradition of science and scenery; all cut, paste and meaningless, merely for the IRKr, for the SIMPLE VEXATION.) Why these contaminations of caucasian chalk and cheese, then? Why these hits upon poon? Why all these anal reverses towards the slit backside of the Sun? 'You die for nothing', one voice says, 'but only after you survive a helium Hindenburg, as Pye R Pollyanna, as a date-donkey, as fodder for their slithers of preset. Your brain-drain is itself recalled as a sexual minority, devoid of natural offspring. In the real world, for instance, Birmingham, Alabama, arranges its official dead as mistletoe, for the spit and the abyss. Best love your headstone while you can, and for its own sake, as a fortress to forget'. Another counters with images of politicians pushing buttons. One sequence depicts Hyksos the Dysteleologist, with his trouser oedipi, singing to shipwreck the word's last faithful volunteer. The middle-ground comes in a surfeit of sizes, all called road-maps, via carrier waves with rotating teeth. Meanwhile, Haemo-Assad, a kind of chutzpah of baby vowels impaled upon a CGI swordfish, twitching like a flag in damp fog, a fussy-eater of only depo provera, makes the sign of the cross over a valley of bones.