Handjob Tyrants Of Hollywood

She will not be perfect.
Her skin will fall and flop.
She talks and talks
and I of course make the mistake
of judging her value by
the changing of her physicality
while granting myself privileges
of mind, lintellect, and earnings.
My breath stales to phlegm
and stinks its sad mature mucosal
isolation of men.
I become known as

the handjob tyrant

and look towards other women,
but as I grow old and my hardons
no longer work
do I have the courage to love her
as she turns into something
beyond time,
eternal, beyond stupid words?
Something my mother told me
as a toddler,

listen to that feeling inside your head

and maybe I’ll still be afraid of.
This poem was not written for the
fashionable young people or the
vainfully rich and egotists
rushing in and out of the stores and
clinics of the City.
This poem was written for the leaves,
grass, and particles
still vassals to the wind,
not the human negrotude
put in place by the ancient Court
of Ine, ingrained in your movies and
television.

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Robots Driving By The Oligarchy

I can’t sleep when you’re on vacation.

My hands are small, smaller than they’ve
ever been.

The kittens were born ten years ago behind
a modest wooden house in Fort Worth.

The cats will die someday. I’ll cry like a
baby then.

I personally think the bacteria in your stomach
and anus are what’s ruined you, you know

soured you as a person,

in the midst of this lactic war.

Biologists think the big red spot on Jupiter
is fueled by lactic acid,

the lactic acid, that is, in its upper atmosphere.

I thought for a moment;
kind of like your robot stomach.

You do
love a lot like robots driving by the White House,

reporting on domestic spying initiatives
and
tossing Molotov cocktails.

Your sheets are folded perfectly.
Your bed is made quiet nicely.

These are not codes, Shipley Shipwin. They are
not codes.

Telly Advert Adversaries

the TV talked and it said

you’re not good enough for me

it said instead

another woman was

then pointed me in the direction

of billboards and magazines

it said

there’s more over there

they’re better instead of these
fantasies

inside my head

there’s something even better
than these fantasies

that is what the TV said

that is what the TV’s saying

there’s
something better than you or I

Outside The Box

At this point
we were talking about economics

I turned to her and said
*****, did you leave me because of
economics?

And she said
Yes
regardless of a woman’s education

if she’s a feminist or not

practically every woman
wants to be with a man
they know could take care
of them financially

At least the women who want to
be with a male partner

What about the women with
female partners?
I asked

They’re different she said

Looking for something based more
on
happiness, emotions
and being understood

Why do you think things are like this?
I asked one more question

Because women, well people
in general
are afraid to think outside the box

They’re afraid, you know

it’s fear

Masturbation Beings (or Flesh Amongst The Living)

These are but flesh
that ratify nothing

Ratified by mountains
Ratified in mountains in New Mexico

these inconsequences of computers

Land of launching spaceships
from
Galactic contracts

creatures, clones and tunnels

a mortal program realizes itself
you once loved someone
awake

trades of bodies of flesh
not long lasting
there but not back

never everlasting

This is but flesh
this passing
no way outlasting a blink
of the network

the proliferous supercluster web

a mortal program realizes itself
again, again, you once loved someone

you’re now dead, extremely very dead
just flesh amongst the living

Nice Dresses

These blondes are pretty cute on TV.
They place them in nice dresses.
Nice dresses.
They follow their contours.
You know what it’s like
to be placed in nice dresses
and have your contours followed.
It’s a delicate world of vanity we build.
It helps us in our head.
It’s delicate and tender the touches
in our heart.
All of them are. All of them are.
We build. We build.

You, I and God know
this is what those nice dresses do.
Let’s place more of the blondes and
brunettes like you
in them.
Go down to church, new shopping malls,
svelte automobiles.
Our thinking will be good for teenagers,
millionaires and tycoons.
Our thinking will be good.

Molochs of masculinity.

Messages from New York City.

Silk blouses across breasts.
Steak dinners times ten.