Author Topic: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1 SUBMISSIONS  (Read 9067 times)

Adios

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Re: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1 SUBMISSIONS
« Reply #75 on: September 30, 2010, 05:02:29 pm »
Why is it the more I learn the more I realize how little I know?

Here in the confines of my own construct every time I reach a stage of enlightenment I am immediately made aware of the vastness and the smallness of this place I have built.

Call it the Black Iron Prison, the Golden Sphere, or any other name you can imagine. What I am slowly realizing is the vastness is a natural order but the smallness is created by me. The walls of this place are in constant flux, ever changing by experiences and knowledge won. With a surge of knowledge it seems the walls start to fall away at first, then close back even tighter as the very knowledge I have just won makes me aware of how much there is to learn and how little I know. At times this frustrates me and at other times it leaves me awe struck. At the times of awe I realize that there are no walls. I have put borders on the universe to keep myself from being overwhelmed, but the walls simply do not exist. They are my blanket to keep me feeling warm and secure. During the periods of frustration I claw and scream at the walls that do not exist, blinded by my own smallness and inability to perceive the reality that is and is not at the same time.

My most recent state of enlightenment has left me aware that time and knowledge are things of infinite patience. They are and always will be there, waiting, watching. I will either find things in my alloted time or I will not. It doesn't matter to time or knowledge, and in the end it really doesn't matter to me. I am what I am and I will become what I will become. The things I learn are of my own choosing, my paths are of my own making. Decisions I have made, my reactions to experiences, my personal perceptions to things will determine this. I know if I fail to learn a thing, the knowledge of this thing will not judge me, and being ignorant of the thing I will not judge myself.

There is so much there that no one of will ever taste it all, or even a large part of it.

It is good to be alive.

Doktor Howl

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Re: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1
« Reply #76 on: September 30, 2010, 05:08:23 pm »
ALL submissions will be treated as Copyright, all rights reserved, used by permission.  This removes any chance of horrible fucking messes later.

but much of my art has already been released into the public domain. With most of my visual art, I am not interested in protecting it via copyright.

That's fine.  I can exceed your expectations of ownership, I just can't do less, if you catch my drift.
Don't tell me what to fucking do.  In exchange, I will not tell you what to fucking do.  Note that mocking each other's actions is still permissable under this system.

Lies

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Re: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1 SUBMISSIONS
« Reply #77 on: September 30, 2010, 05:10:53 pm »
The Terrorists Have Already Won Part 1: Flag burning should be manditory.

Friends, Neighbours, and most importantly, enemies, lend me your rationality.

I have urgent news for you.
There is no war on terror. The terrorists have already won. Correction, they won a long time ago.
When? When you stopped questioning authority. If you ever questioned it in the first place.

Oh it's probably not your fault really. You were suckered into it from a very early age. A victim of the conspiracy.
You were told to respect your elders, to listen to what they say.
First it was your parents. Then it was your teachers, your boss, your leaders.

But who ever told you to question what they say? Certainly not them. It wouldn't work in their favour.
Your elders demanded complete unquestioning obedience, of course, it was 'for your own good'.
You may have asked questions initially, when you had a million questions to ask about the world, all in innocence.
But it would get to the point when you were told to do something, and you asked, "why?" the response would be, "because I said so", and that would be the end, and you would do it.
Soon enough, you'd be conditioned to do things upon order, without wondering why, assuming it was for your own good.

And this mode of thinking passed on... of course, you were encouraged to ask questions at school.
But really, you were only allowed to ask the right questions, the wrong questions would get you into trouble, or would get ignored, or they would provide you with an answer that you didn't understand, or perhaps was only half of what you really wanted to know, or should have been told.

This created gaps in your rationality, things that on the surface seem to make sense and are complete, but if you were to scratch off the surface and dig a little deeper, you would find that there is a lot of scrambled information.

Were you made to stand up at school assembly, have the flag raised, and sing the national anthem?
Have you ever thought how that has affected you up until this day?

Are you a patriot? Why?
Because you were told that your country is the greatest, and that you should love everything about it, and if anything or anyone threatens the things you love you should be ready to fight and die for it?

Do you respect your flag?
Is it because you were told that flag is a symbol of the greatness of your country and all the freedoms you supposedly have, that your elders died fighting for?

Does it boil your blood when you see someone burn that precious flag?
If your answer is yes, then let me guarantee you one of the first statements made: The terrorists have already won.

For I say, that flag is a symbol, a symbol that represents much more then most of us were told to believe, and that symbol is full of corruption.

It represents the unquestioning love of the country and those who live in it, and the the unquestioning obedience to its leader.
Or the complete ignorance and ability to hate countries that are not your own and all those who live in it, and the complete ignorance of the biased intentions of its leader.

It represents the sense of identity of who you are and your past, that your ancestors used it to show that this land was theirs.
Or the lie that your identity and past depends on that flag being there, and that your ancestors stole the land from the original inhabitants.

It represents something worth fighting for, the freedoms that your ancestors fought and died to protect.
Or the illusion that is worth fighting a meaningless war, and that people who fought for your freedoms should be respected and therefore to show disrespect towards the flag is equal to disrespecting those people, when really, if you don't have the freedom to burn your flag, is truly disrespecting those who died for it.

The flag is NOT what it represents. The flag is a piece of coloured fabric, and is only anything more if you personally see more in it.
The people have forgotten this. The people have lost their way. The people have stopped thinking, and let others tell them what to think.
They let their emotions get in the way of rational thought, and have been fooled into thinking that the menu is more important then the food.
The flag is NOT you. The flag is NOT the people you love. The flag is NOT the country. The flag is NOT your freedom.

So called patriots, WAKE UP. A true patriot would burn their flag because that's the freedom you're supposed to have, that you claim you love so dearly.
If you really think that someone burning "your flag" is an insult to all those things, then you have let the terrorists win.
That's right, YOU.
In fact, when you start to campaign that flag burning should be illegal, then YOU have become the terrorist.
YOU have taken away the freedoms from the people you love and the country you are so proud of, and most importantly, yourself.

When it gets to the point where a flag is burnt, and no one cares, can we say that the world is on its way to winning the war on terror.

Please note: There are rumours of people going around, burning flags, of their own country, and other peoples countries, and that they hate YOU and everything you love.
These people don't hate you, or the country, or the people, they hate that you think a flag is more important then the real problems we have in this world.

Also note: If flag burning is not yet illegal where you are, I suggest taking advantage of it, piss off as many people as possible, and if they ever bother to ask you why you are burning their precious flag, you can tell them.
"I'm trying to make flag burning illegal here, because I love the flag that much".
(Also, it's not "their flag." You bought it, you own it, it's YOUR flag to do with what you want, right?)

Love, Light + Chaos,

-The Cosmopolitan Patriot
Standing above the crowd,
He had a voice that was strong and loud and I
Swallowed his facade cuz I'm so
Eager to identify with
Someone above the ground,
Someone who seemed to feel the same,
Someone prepared to lead the way, and
Someone who would die for me.

Will you? Will you now?
Would you die for me?
Don't you fuckin lie.

Lies

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Re: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1 SUBMISSIONS
« Reply #78 on: September 30, 2010, 05:13:38 pm »
Discordian Ideals?

Yeah, Umn, hellooooo, we're DISCORDIANS HERE.
You know, ones who are not under the authority of the authorities...
Like, we make up the rules as we go along, and realise that politics is simply a two man con made to only truly benefit the politicians and business' that fund politicians campaigns.

There is no real definition of the discordian movement. We are the great collection of whatever the fuck we wanna be, we are the religion with a punch line, we are the Mad Geniuses and the Talentless madmen.

Fuck definition. Fuck the left wing hippies and fuck the right wing religious conservatives, fuck the law, fuck morality, fuck poverty, fuck business, fuck socialism, fuck capitalism, fuck marxism, fuck the monarchy, fuck anarchy, fuck despotism, fuck everything, no system is ever perfect, if you stick to an ideology about the way things should work, and all you can see is that, then you miss all the opportunities to rort that system that's around you.

If there's something you want, TAKE IT, don't whinge about the fact that you don't have something, figure out how you can get what you want, just be fucking SMART about it.

A discordian is just as likely to wave the flag of establishment as they are to wave the flag of anti-establishment, a discordian can say that we as humans should fuck technology and money and just go back to nature, and that would be right, a discordian can say we should take advantage of the stupidity of humanity and capitalise and grow rich, and that would also be right.
Discordianism is whatever works for you, as you find it necessary, so that you can live your life the way you see it fit.

And discordians can completely disagree with everything I've just said, and yeah, they'd be right too.

The only real sin you can commit in discordianism is to speak in absolutes about discordianism. DID YOU SEE WHAT I DID THAR?
« Last Edit: October 01, 2010, 02:50:15 am by Lysergic »
Standing above the crowd,
He had a voice that was strong and loud and I
Swallowed his facade cuz I'm so
Eager to identify with
Someone above the ground,
Someone who seemed to feel the same,
Someone prepared to lead the way, and
Someone who would die for me.

Will you? Will you now?
Would you die for me?
Don't you fuckin lie.

Adios

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Re: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1 SUBMISSIONS
« Reply #79 on: September 30, 2010, 05:15:07 pm »
large spider web on my front porch. I was going to have a knee jerk reaction and remove it but I realized it was a knee jerk reaction and didn't. It turns out observing spiders at work is a very rich text of beautifully written life lessons. After some consideration by the spider (assumption) she picked a spot to build her web. It has cover, light at night and an ample food supply. It is beautifully crafted and well constructed. She is patient and motionless as she waits for her prey. Once an insect is in the web she is lightening fast as she poisons it and wraps it up. She has to be sometimes. Some insects struggle very little trying to escape and are summarily eaten. Others struggle mightily and actually escape. Some put up a good fight and are eaten anyway.

As I watch this process in utter fascination it occurs to me we as primates are not so very different from the insects. If we had souls I wonder how many of us would have had ours eaten by now. The web we are trapped in has been beautifully crafted and well constructed. Could it be that it is comfortable and seems a good time to rest from flying around all the time? If it does then we are not aware of the danger lurking just out of sight and we will be devoured.

This brings another thought to mind. Do we have the desire and strength to struggle and fight our way to escape? Then what? Back to mindlessly flying around? Probably, it's what we do after all.

I'm going back out to watch so I can learn to struggle and fight.

Cramulus

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Re: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1 SUBMISSIONS
« Reply #80 on: September 30, 2010, 05:17:16 pm »
I'm sorry but I have to insist that the public domain stuff stays in the public domain. One of the primary reasons I make visual art is to create stuff FOR the public domain. Feel free to print it, but you can't copyright it.


likewise, you may use any of this stuff, (a lot of the B&W art will probably be up your alley) but it has to bear a creative commons license: http://cramul.us/2010/09/juxtapositions/



Doktor Howl

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Re: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1 SUBMISSIONS
« Reply #81 on: September 30, 2010, 05:19:27 pm »
I'm sorry but I have to insist that the public domain stuff stays in the public domain. One of the primary reasons I make visual art is to create stuff FOR the public domain. Feel free to print it, but you can't copyright it.


likewise, you may use any of this stuff, (a lot of the B&W art will probably be up your alley) but it has to bear a creative commons license: http://cramul.us/2010/09/juxtapositions/




I'm not copyrighting it.  I'm using it by permission.  I am TREATING it as copyrighted by the authors.  At some point, I will be asking people how they want the credits attributed and protected, and that will appear in the contents page(s).
Don't tell me what to fucking do.  In exchange, I will not tell you what to fucking do.  Note that mocking each other's actions is still permissable under this system.

Freeky Queen of DERP

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Re: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1 SUBMISSIONS
« Reply #82 on: September 30, 2010, 05:19:59 pm »
Friday night. No, let's start at the beginning. Friday AFTERNOON, when the "good Dok" came over to "help" me with my Pickles running away.

He had made this horrible contraption of a harness. There were so many hooks and electrode-y bits that it frightened me before he even put it on Pickles. As he was strapping the little guy in, he was explaining to me what the various parts do, and how the thing worked. I can't even remember it now, because it was all science-y shit, and I was never really good with electrical circuits anyway, and I think I may have blocked it for my own personal peace of mind, but I really could not, in the end, let his experiment continue. And that's what it was, just an experiment. Well guess what, Roger. Puppies and science DO NOT MIX.

Later that evening, Roger dropped me off at Nurse Mayhem's house. He left a short while after that, saying he had an errand to run. He returned after an hour or so, and he had a midget with him. And the midget was wearing the harness. And I snapped a bit.

By the way, sorry about that. I, uh, I don't think I've ever gone off on anyone so hard, let alone with an inch thick piece of dowel rod. Sorry.

And as a side note, I'd like to just mention to everyone that it is never ever ever appropriate to call a police officer "Daddy", especially if you are bald and weigh like 230 pounds. And I don't want to talk about it. I really, really, really don't.

And then, earlier tonight, we went to this bar. It was either the bar or the desert, and I didn't think I'd be able to handle that kind of "fun". It was called the Venture Inn or something like that, maybe the Ventura Inn. Now, I've only ever heard the Meatrack described, never been there myself, but this place was so much worse than anything that place could have to offer. The warped wood flooring was sticky, enough that I had trouble picking up my feet when I walked, and I had to walk carefully to avoid tripping over the boards that had bent so much out of shape that they were a full half inch out of alignment. There was a picture there, and I'm not really sure what was going on in it, but it seemed to be some old guy either fucking or getting sucked off by a lion. I'm not sure what that had to do with anything.

(Did I mention that this is a gay bar for old people? This is a gay bar for old people. And not Roger old [no offense, I'm serious], no, I'm talking sixties and seventies and up.)

The walls were stained with god knows what, and smelled of ancient nicotine. I guess the place has been around since before it was illegal to smoke inside. The didn't have glasses, just filthy mason jars, out of which most of the group chugged down their various alcohols.

Roger didn't drink, just gave off this vibe of hate, and kept telling us how much he hated everyone. I didn't either, because frankly I'm terrified of the thought of becoming incapacitated in any way around these people.

Who are these people? Well, there's Nurse Mayhem, and Roger, and Evil Roomie, and Kaz, and even Maria (I have never seen her get so fuckered up, and given the condition of everyone, Roger ended up being the voice of reason. I sincerely believe it's a sign of the end times).  The dirty boys from Grant Road met us there. I really can't believe such a horribly menacing, disgustingly perverse group of people actually exists, but I guess that's just because I'm a bit naiive, and deep down I believe that most people are basically good. I realized tonight I have a lot of growing up to do.

Now, you may be itching to ask me, why do I hang out with these people, if I have such a horrible time? Well, I suppose it's because as horrible as they act, as much as they scare me, they never beat me down with horrible shit, or at least its never personal, and if I do end up cringing in horror, it's an accident (i hope) or a joke (I think). I guess, for this reason, I still consider these people some of the best friends I've ever had, even as I sit here and Thousand Mile Stare at my computer screen in shock and horror.

And also

Why do I keep doing this to myself?

So last night, the Dok, Maria, Nurse Mayhem, the rest of the coffee night crew and I went out to a bar. It was a normal bar this time, no corpses like the last one, so I had hopes of the night at least approaching normal. We were there about an hour, just chilling and drinking, when this Mexican wedding party comes in. They were a bit rowdy, but it was in a happy way. But apparently, some of the other patrons that were already there knew someone from the party, and started up a ruckus. Eventually, someone pushed someone else, and one of their freinds pushed back to get even, and it turned into an all out brawl. I'm talking like people were throwing their beer bottles, there were bull rushes going on, people were reaching behind the bar to get at more (and bigger) bottles to use as weapons, the whole shebang. The sounds of glass shattering, people yelling and screaming in rage and pain and hate, and the Dok's laughter boomed in my ears as I dove under a table to get out of the way (I accidently caught one guy's foot as I dove under and he hit his chin on the table and got knocked out, I really shouldn't wear my stawmpin boots cuz they're so big).

As I watched the scene in a strange mix of terror and... badfun?... I saw the rest of the coffee night crew side with the wedding party. Maria and Nurse Mayhem were back to back the entire time. Maria had a broken glass bottle in one hand, and Mayhem had a barstool. Dok apparently couldn't stop laughing, even when (or more likely because) he was thwacking people in the head with some guy's shoe he had got from somewhere. Von Melee was doing okay for a while, he definitely got some good licks in, but someone punched him right where Mayhem had got him a few weeks ago, and he was done. I spotted Evil Roomie once, riding the back of some poor vato, yanking his hair and shouting "Giddy up!" and giggling madly. I have no idea what Mork had been doing, but it was more than likely something sinister.

When things looked to be calming down, I darted out from under my table and ran out the back door. The rest of the group was already there, laughing their asses off, and they had made it out with the bride and groom. They said we were welcome to any of their family functions, and then made off into the night.

It was interesting, anyway.

Are these the sort of things you had in mind?
Motorized Clutchless Love Augur of Last Night's Faux Pas

Cramulus

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Re: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1 SUBMISSIONS
« Reply #83 on: September 30, 2010, 05:21:40 pm »
I'm sorry but I have to insist that the public domain stuff stays in the public domain. One of the primary reasons I make visual art is to create stuff FOR the public domain. Feel free to print it, but you can't copyright it.


likewise, you may use any of this stuff, (a lot of the B&W art will probably be up your alley) but it has to bear a creative commons license: http://cramul.us/2010/09/juxtapositions/




I'm not copyrighting it.  I'm using it by permission.  I am TREATING it as copyrighted by the authors.  At some point, I will be asking people how they want the credits attributed and protected, and that will appear in the contents page(s).

ah, cool! mucho bueno.  :mrgreen:

LMNO, PhD (life continues)

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Re: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1 SUBMISSIONS
« Reply #84 on: September 30, 2010, 05:27:01 pm »
This is probably the best solo piece I've written this year.  You're welcome to use it.

_________________________________________________ ________________________________

                                        No TIME!
              -High score-
Work/Study – Year end review.  Gotta keep going.
     A third of the team was laid off—
                                                                    --"Performance related," they said--   
                       Workload increased
                                            (no bonuses)
BUT THERE'S FREE COFFEE IN THE BREAK ROOM.

                                                            Just got word they're recording to the minute
                                                                                     When we log on to the computer.
                'metrics' they call it.
                but we all know
                  our paychecks
                 are linked to the clock.
 
                                                                             Joe's kid got sick yesterday.
                                                                                           Coughing up blood.
                                               He just sat there at home, wiping dark red phlegm
                                                                        from his bottom lip
                                                                                           until Joe's shift ended.
We're there to make a better life for ourselves
sitting in the office abattoir   
                       waiting at the paper trough
        trying to avoid Upper Management's electric prodding
                                                     and clenching our bowels,
waiting for the mandatory bathroom break.
 
                                                                        This is why we went to college, after all.
                                                                          To earn those tickets.
                                                                             To get the high score.
                                                                               To pay off the debts
                                                                                 We accrued getting the education
                                                                                    We needed to pay off our debts.
   
   I think they're putting something in my cereal.
        In the morning, my mouth is filled with sweetness,
     and then – nothing – and I find myself on the bus – and then
                    - nothing, and I find myself staring at the retina-burning monitor –
 -and then-
                                                              -nothing-
                                                                                                        -and then-
                             -home again, watching TV – and then –






…and then…








                                                                                 …and then…















                        …and then…
LMNO
Pope/Wrought Iron Instigator
First Church of Last Exit Before Toll
The Spider Project.

Buy the Chao te Ching, or be doomed forever.

http://www.stonybrook.edu/sb/marburger/index.shtml

"Get offa me, you freaks!  This is not North Korea.  No.  This is America, and I expect to be PAID for that sort of nonsense.  In advance.  No credit...Cash on the barrelhead or GTFO.  I swear to God, there's nothing more annoying than commie perverts who don't understand the intrinsic value of the free market system."

Cramulus

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Re: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1 SUBMISSIONS
« Reply #85 on: September 30, 2010, 05:29:31 pm »
:mittens: I really like that!

Cramulus

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Re: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1 SUBMISSIONS
« Reply #86 on: September 30, 2010, 05:31:42 pm »
Population Control
Tessa and I carved our initials into a tree,
like kids,
giggling but serious.
I used a pocketknife
& she used her laser.
[That cherry red laser:
At low intensities,
it feels better
than flesh]
We're the perfect match, her & I
She can't love her own kind-
they're not programmed to receive
But I appreciate
her nodes, her patches, her upgrades
She knows what I want
with three-decimal place accuracy.
She's calculated
how to make me fall in love
with her
alone
She's my one malfunction
which crashes all the rest
my system can't restart now
that she broke the turing test
When my ex-girlfriend Terra came back
I tired to leave
But Tessa just stood there
like the tin-man
rusted in place
scanning me like headlights
reflected in deer eyes
I oiled her with affection
When she started to move again
her arms coiled around me
"You would leave me?" she asked tearfully,
"You would leave me for flesh?"
No honey, I say,
you're my nested loops
and you're my copper wire
you're my flash drive
you are my decompiler
we'll never have kids



Users
I don't understand what you mean--
what are all these "users" you're talking about?
(all these alleged "real people")
All I see are ip addresses.
There are four parts.
Each part has 256 possibilities.
It sounds like a lot.
In a small group, each one appears unique
in a large group, its just a blur of numbers hey
hey
you've got the lion and the lamb hey
you've got the bull and the eagle hey
you've got about four billion combo nations hey hey
and thats all you've got
psycho logic taxonomy
numeric teleology
and that's all
You Sirs are





Silicon Valley & Gomorrah
Silicon Valley
 or should I say
Sodom
 is burning
My wife looked back
 and disassembled downwards
 into a pile of parts.
dust to dust, I suppose.
The architects of Babel:
 did their system crash
 crash our sins
 as well?
Is there anything outside the network?
And a thousand years later
 after all the sand has burned to glass
 and the valley is dark and wide
                                  and lonely
We will think
 byzantine circuitry
                                   taboo
 403 - forbidden
             you pervert





Discordia
Discordia
the more we talk of what it is
the more we know     it is not
Discordia
that waits for you to make a good point
             at the sky
                        with a sword
but guess whose face is up there, pops,
You
open the doors of the advent calendar
Discordia
is hidden in more ways than five
has revealed
in an alphabet soup you slurp
                letter by letter
telling a story of hide and seek in your parent's bed
and finding a broken condom
              in your head
                           Discordia





and then here's a zombie poem...
Bear vs Whale: A Love Nocturne for the Dead
The City of Albany is filled with giant shells
it is a grave yard of sea creatures from long ago
each spiral staircase a headstone bearing trivialities,
pleasantries and idle chit chat with Death, its new roommate

We walk among the new marianas trench, in a world without light
along Quail Street, where the riots started
the first baton was like a shotgunshot, and then noisily,
a flock of wild teeth taking off from the underbrush

The dead crawled out of the pits and morass
The dead crawled, breathing hard, on top of the living
and made sweet love to the music of the setting sun
a chorus of helpless screams, voices ragged with panic

Now we stay holed up in our bedroom with a rifle as a candle
The pressure of the marianas trench can crush a japanese phone book in half
It is a hungry sumo wrestler, but his fat body is made of zombies
and the bowl of rice only has one or two grains left

and the sumo wrestler is Albany, stabbing at rice with chopsticks,
frustrated and mindless, a thousand students taking the SATs in unison
watching TV in unison, farting in unison, their limbs
in unison falling to the floor, lying for three days

and then arising anew, the christ of the holocaust
bringing date-rape to all that they may be reborn again
staggering up the spiral of a giant shell
tireless sleeping eyes rolled back

the giant cage spinning and the Lucky-Six-Six-Six numbers
are drawn by Vannah White, your limbs tied to the wheel, spinning
your number is up, and dollar signs are drawn crudely
on the ping-pong-ball eyes of the zombie at your door

It's like listening to your neighbors hump,
but instead of having sex they throw like dead fruit
their rotten bodies against the walls of your mind
their fingertips through a crack in the door, like live shrimp

For days this goes on, the crack wider,
and the shrimp becomes an eel, becomes a shark,
foul cold breath crawling over your barricade
a school of kung-fu fists come punching, tearing, biting

the air smells of gunpowder and ejaculate
it is a painful moment of freedom from repression
as you are all fists now too, stroking your hard gun
the thudding is your heart is flying kung-fu

In FLAMES! You're a MAN, a MAN!
it revs like a motorcycle engine
and your body is in the sumo ring,
your weight an angry bear attacking an ancient whale

But the sumo city is bigger than the sumo ego
and the angry bear is smaller than the ancient whale
and your corpus is a phone book, names, addresses, the numbers that matter,
being crushed in half

Doktor Howl

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Re: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1 SUBMISSIONS
« Reply #87 on: September 30, 2010, 05:32:11 pm »
Freeky:  Hell yes.

LMNO:  HELL YES.
Don't tell me what to fucking do.  In exchange, I will not tell you what to fucking do.  Note that mocking each other's actions is still permissable under this system.

Richter

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Re: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1 SUBMISSIONS
« Reply #88 on: September 30, 2010, 05:32:24 pm »
The Dog Story

Nothing can quite channel the essence of human stupidity like a poorly trained young dog, or the antics of a monkey.  Well, maybe not the monkey.  Even when apes are howling around acting foolish, big stupid toothy grins, it’s a dominance game.  The smile? “Look at what I will fucking bite you with, fuckass.”  Maybe not the dogs either, but it reminds me of Boomer and Carl.  Boomer was the dog, Carl was the boy.  Neither was shaggy (I’m just setting that out right now.)

As mentioned, Boomer was not the best trained.  Hauling around barking, grabbing things, peeing, generally embodying the traits in dogs that make me cringe.  Carl, the boy, and very much the dog’s boy, wasn’t exactly a hand in correcting this.

“OOhhh! Boomer!”, he’d always cry when the dog did something idiotic.  It came out half amused, half helpless exclamation.  That was the age he was at, and it was just dawning on him the distinction between the momentary spark of fun, and keeping things un – fucked in the long term.  Why would anyone want to do that?  Simple, to my reasoning.  Un – fucked things are nice.  There’s no standard to them, just decide the level of organization vs. clutter, cleanliness, and decoration you want in a place, then keep it up.  Clean the filth when filth happens.  An untrained dog is a great way to make you appreciate the effort un – fucking takes.

Not the dog’s fault, he wasn’t trained any better.  Not the boy’s fault, he wasn’t either, but he was learning it. 

Hork Barf Spit
Friendly Neighborhood Mentat
Slacker, Warrior Poet, Pervert.
Non-stop Disco.

Cramulus

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Re: The Audio Book of the Dead, Chapter 1 SUBMISSIONS
« Reply #89 on: September 30, 2010, 05:34:30 pm »
she wears lace, her hair is an oil spill


she wears lace, her hair is an oil spill
it seeps into my coastline
I'm not ready for it yet
stiff drink
ball drop
it's gonna take me forever to clean up all this slop

It happens every day. A little bit more of me is gone,
They want us to close our eyes now
the new me is incoming, some nameless stranger
I want him to change everything
they want us to stop listening
he's going to perfect the art of stillness
like some virtuous rock
drop me to the bottom like your ears pop
jacked out and into the darkness

shh--their message is very quiet. The world drowns it out.

This life -- a lunatic fire. The spark inside hush--
Everything you can see was somebody's quest once.
They left it behind. Now they are drifting, fading
sparks in the darkness.

The world plays up a trill like a million roads.
You can turn lead into gold. You can suffer a little bit.
You can turn the soul into instant cash money. You can taste the poison.
There isn't a thought in this world that isn't alchemy.
Spark up that immortality, more fuel for the engine.

(the oil sits on top of the water)

Your quest becomes fire.
Maybe your most salient contribution to this world will be a pothole or a skidmark.
Maybe you'll be swinging from a street light, red in the face, stopped cold.

You might only hear my call a few times in your life.
I was there for you when you were at rock bottom.

Easy for you to say you will answer, but you haven't yet.
I was the life you thought was your destiny.

And if you still want me, you have to destroy it all.
Shh--Let's hold hands.
Sweating in the meat prison.
The body decides
the mind rides.

Drifting, fading
sparks in the darkness.

« Last Edit: December 21, 2010, 06:26:07 pm by Cramulus »