You need an account in order to use this option.
|
| EMAIL to AmandaBy » soberVISIONS on Wed Jul 22, 20090 Comments | | i saw a "catfound" sign today
and
it made me smile
so does my
thirty-years-old sister when she sucks her thumb
and
this Irish lady at the factory
shes always cold
and
i helped her build a box
and
i sat in it for an hour
and
someone asked why
and i said
it was the only way to keep... |
|
| Simple SlicesBy » soberVISIONS on Wed Jul 22, 20090 Comments | | Franco's phone dont speak English
so
Mick flips his lid at the dial tone
and shoves the receiver up my nose
so
i baked a cake
and we got ourselves a date
its always the same date
at the same place
and hes always late
we got to be at the corner by 10
and weve got empty pockets and... |
|
| Upside-Down HourglassBy » soberVISIONS on Wed Apr 1, 20090 Comments | | i’ve got two hours to get drunk
and
bandana bangers are callin’ me Lolita
i’ve got whiskey breath
and a bottle-bottom
i’m such an Irish-chiquita
i’m broke
so i shake my knees and say it’s nice to meet ya
a
twisted eye
pirate tooth
hurdles me some booze and tells me to... |
|
| A Conversation with AmandaBy » soberVISIONS on Fri Mar 6, 20091 Comment | | *
the bibbet-box broke two chicken legs
and
i ate both their breasts
and lied to a French chef
and told him his fish was expired
simply because
i really am dying from stomach worms
*
a raw burp out the wrong hole of a squirrel’s nut
has been polished for hours over a Spanish... |
|
| Our Coversation is RipeBy » soberVISIONS on Sun Mar 1, 20090 Comments | | i’m surprised all these pills haven’t killed me, yet
heehaw!
what vibrant veins i've got
what a useful nose i’ve got
i can’t comment on my brain
maybe my heart
how it’s all over this page
and maybe
burning up your eyes
with no
Pepto-Bismol
to help
but a silly image
like... |
|
| Trumpet SquirtBy » soberVISIONS on Sun Mar 1, 20090 Comments | | you’re a bean bag
used as sock
on the foot of an all day apple picker
tired & tasty
the sun hasn’t been pointing it’s fine ass at you for seven years
those seven years of
“i can’t afford a Father to keep my nose clean”
but
“i sure can afford to clean out my... |
|
| The Jukebox CackleBy » soberVISIONS on Sun Mar 1, 20091 Comment | | you told me drugs are too good to be true
so i
used your Mother’s umbrella
as a plug for eight months
minus six rainbow days
with hugs around my neck
and a nipple of reason
(that i forgot)
but took three hours
to take the bus
from one stop to the next
because the people were so... |
|
| Your Mother Knew it and Your Fish DiedBy » soberVISIONS on Sun Mar 1, 20091 Comment | | the tighter the bra, the bigger the bitch,
and i don’t wear a bra
(or socks)
even if i'm dressed
i’m so damn naked
because my mouth is so big
so big a squirrel might think it’s a nut-hole
which in reality it is,
like an art cinema film
where Salvador Dali
would cut my eye open... |
|
| Uncle Wait-on-it-MurphyBy » soberVISIONS on Sun Feb 22, 20091 Comment | | your tambourine dont clack or jangle
like it used to, rusty red beard,
no, all that cactus chewin aint sane old sir,
you mop like a wet sock
when you spit barbels into the puddles,
those preppy puddles,
only four fingers away
from your tin foil feet
those penny vacuums
sucking out... |
|
| DamnitBy » soberVISIONS on Sun Feb 22, 20090 Comments | | SYLVIA!
did you strap that gas tank to your shoe?
and
suck suck suck
on it
like a jew? |
|
| Lift Your Lid, Lady!By » soberVISIONS on Sun Feb 22, 20090 Comments | | he is long like a catipillar
but he will never be
beautiful like a butterfly
(he is a pervert and a nail looking for a screw) |
|
| Prochaine StationBy » soberVISIONS on Wed Feb 11, 20091 Comment | | the amputee tells a junkie-lean lady
that when it comes to the egg
the more boiled the beautiful,
an asthma sucker smiles,
because it’s true
ya' see
the blank white image the same
but the bubbly beating unknown
a memory
a mystery
a question
of strength & untold evils of the... |
|
| Visions for Jack KerouacBy » soberVISIONS on Wed Feb 11, 20090 Comments | | jack! where’s your box?
Jean-Talon?
where the cheap coloured suits say hey bella,
come amo?
you call your father?
& i say that’s none of your business, okay?
but sure,
money maker – knee breaker,
got a dollar to spare?
got a phone to use?
got a number to score?
got a box... |
|
| Some More LS (Moi et Liana Pare)By » soberVISIONS on Wed Feb 11, 20090 Comments | | if im a bird
so are you,
only
because you chew
rocks, instead of sipping soup
strange winger with a tasty plate
ya, oui, si
little birdie
cracking like a hallway banjo
fancy clap
skipping with toys
and
all the other birds... |
|
| Breakfast of ChampionsBy » soberVISIONS on Sat Jan 31, 20090 Comments | | I woke up half-drunk,
bra-less in a twelve-gauge magnum of a nightmare
seven-o-clock in the annoyingly bright morning.
The atleast six-foot, broad-shouldered, lightning-eyed,
trendy ski-masked stranger woke me singing no lullabies but assuring me,
the soon-to-be whore, if I screamed he would... |
|
| Bus RiderBy » soberVISIONS on Sat Jan 31, 20091 Comment | | falling in love is so easy
when smiling drunkenly
but when my mad-girl catfish whisker needs a pull
you are too intellectual to rip me
yes yes
you simple juice
purified without pulp
what if i write a scientific sex book
would you do me plus two and minus six from my anus?
i need a... |
|
| I'm Afraid to MicrowaveBy » soberVISIONS on Sat Jan 31, 20090 Comments | | Jean-Lennon, ya’ caught me peeking at ya’
like a nocturnal Chinese-fish in a cabbage patch,
obvious as a sputnik
dreaming at you, instead of the burning stage
all these legs look creative,
but not crazy
(like me)
no, not that obsessive quality,
not Cobain crazy
no,
not Plath... |
|
| Twenty KneesBy » soberVISIONS on Sat Jan 31, 20091 Comment | | hey sir, you are as warm as a welcoming mat, yup
i want to hug you
i want it to be WELCOMING & WARM
i want it to be sensual,
i want it to be sexual,
i want it to be spicy,
NO!
i want it to be saucy,
SOY SAUCE!
but please, no Chinese,
i’m on a diet, maybe sprinkle me a plate... |
|
| HOWL for Liana PareBy » soberVISIONS on Tue Jan 20, 20092 Comments | | monotone canaries whistling Sinatra
waking the noon-dreamers
from protectively hidden memories
of tragic-comedies printed on banana-peels
stuffed in the sealed Freudian-slip drawer
& scattered recollection of the illusionary countless days of endless
sunsets scratching crotches for... |
|
| The Boredom of BeerBy » soberVISIONS on Tue Jan 20, 20092 Comments | | drunk in St. Henri,
peeling band-aids off the abandoned gas-station
onto the bloody butterfly of my knee
flying on the backs of street-cats
with broken doors hung off the hinges
if i weren’t drunk i wouldn't be here
i wouldn’t be in this sappost-to-be-white bathroom,
which never has... |
|
| BillBy » soberVISIONS on Tue Jan 20, 20090 Comments | | i saw you (there)
stumbled righteously with a fishing rod.
amused by the plastic rainbow creature
orbiting mystically at the force of your drunkenness.
your obvious toxic-helplessness welcomed me.
so, i seated a sufi position three (estimated)
metres of a slicing view to your... |
|
| The CottonBy » soberVISIONS on Tue Jan 20, 20091 Comment | | nervous on Parc avenue,
pacing through the rainbow-boîtes
pastel & trippy
baby gardens, dead flowers, prickle weeds,
broken bottle under my shoe,
ganja-mon begging me for one-seventy-five
to hop for Tam’s
he-lazy-stoned-don’t-wana-walk
and i’m eating poets,
spitting out drums... |
|
| FatBy » soberVISIONS on Tue Jan 20, 20090 Comments | | your brain is overweight,
the chemicals accumulating
dopamine. yes.
srotonin. yes.
endorphins. maybe. so, why fret?
DMT, GHB, and HIV.
(OH, YEAH)
drowning in a thick sugarless pudding,
your pain is censored
forced capsules
decapitated from reality
vegetable, you’re... |
|
| Cul-de-SacBy » soberVISIONS on Tue Jan 20, 20090 Comments | | a
cavernous
head
sheltering
the vulnerable veins
of the orange-peel littered streets
poppy-filled
teabags
suckin’ smoke
crystallized eyes wide for reaper
bare-breast
gardened with pig-tail hair
nude as a knob
twisting & turning
bumbling & yearning for a succulent... |
|
| Ruby TuesdayBy » soberVISIONS on Wed Dec 3, 20080 Comments | | After living five-years under a thick and dizzy spell of mixed uppers and
downers,
there are only two ways to quit (without relapsing).
One being death (duh)
and the other being hitting rock bottom,
(a stepping-stone til’ the black wardrobe comes to fashion).
It was a Tuesday,
and... |
|
| Where Are You?By » soberVISIONS on Tue Dec 2, 20081 Comment | | what happened to the righteous?
i need an intellectual mind, who without word
will instantaneously poke me and casually
inform me of my bone measurements
(WHERE ARE YOU?)
it seems everyone but me at birth
was performed a lobotomy,
who now are dulled daily,
amused by materials,
and... |
|
| The Boiler RoomBy » soberVISIONS on Tue Dec 2, 20080 Comments | | temperature rising – fever is high
sweat is sweet,
and
everything you
eat
is
cotton-coated
divinity blows out your nose,
the cold caught in the brain
(uh-oh) a (squealing-schizo)
convulsion is common
confusion is natural
illusion is clear
(fear is nothing, because he... |
|
| Speed BallBy » soberVISIONS on Tue Dec 2, 20081 Comment | | i have gone so far out,
i just might not come back at all!
each and every silent stare
triggers a fire-coated bullet,
i have become swiss-cheese
(THE BUBBLEBATH)
i soak in my loathing fear imitating innocence
with my unbearable stench of guilt,
and a nose as long as Pinocchio
eyes... |
|
| SquareBy » soberVISIONS on Tue Dec 2, 20080 Comments | | television alters (your) brain chemicals
the mental architecture crumbles
rubble
the ill(s)
of society
are
boxed
behind
a staticy rainbow
of
bla bla bla’s
and
ha ha ha’s |
|
| RougeBy » soberVISIONS on Tue Dec 2, 20080 Comments | | i’ve stood the teeter-totter heights
the abscesses bloom poppy skirts,
the bloody motor is beat
(beat and brittle)
my leg is a chipped peg,
a lain log with a creaking tap to silence innocence
immune to banana gas, my dullness is electrifying
an empty bowl full of pits,
the whores... |
|
| My New FriendBy » soberVISIONS on Tue Dec 2, 20081 Comment | | you say you are ill
me, a mirror of your every flaw
(VICIOUSNESS)
my hand a cat claw
(HISS-HISS)
my height, expensive and unbreakable
jumpy as a mexican-bean,
frogs for licks, i can taste your tricks
you are a fever,
hallucinations and backflips
a slow surrender to the divine... |
|
| MurphyBy » soberVISIONS on Tue Dec 2, 20080 Comments | | diamond eyes
cocaine confessions
she knows
tragic truth
bunny-ear flop for fingers
casual jitters
a catatonic bop,
a worn-out epileptic
rejecting her secret combinations of medication
eight lives dipped in powder
one death: the invisible obstacle
eelapse,
the
b r o... |
|
| InvitationBy » soberVISIONS on Tue Dec 2, 20081 Comment | | what i am about to pen will never be performed as words echoing in an ear
from out my mouth
never
there are no loose screws with solid ink
(voices are deceiving and in my case,
occasionally delusions)
i am always when writing, masked, suited, disguised, and naturally we
all... |
|
| AutomaticBy » soberVISIONS on Tue Dec 2, 20081 Comment | | steel plated carpet: snugglin’ the fools
(for utensils) lost in bubblewrap
curl-top babies spit &
giggle for the endlessness of cold never rusted
(you) sit on the (energized)
rocking chair with techs-fresh nutrients
and microwaved eggs-scrambled
giddy-memories delicately captured are... |
|
| (Red Death) Blotter AcidBy » soberVISIONS on Tue Dec 2, 20080 Comments | | she painted the room red with her paranoiac fever
ranting with knives & safety pins
“almighty no-body!
mark your position you sac-less (un)preachable!”
(her illness had no eternal cure)
the plan had burnt past popcorn eyes &
giddy buckteeth
i planted two plastic trees,
told... |
