Pants on Fire

"That's right sir, your APR can never exceed six percent."

"Did... did your nose just grow?"

"No?"

"It totally did - twice!" The customer pointed at the salesman's nose. "What the fuck?"

"I don't want to talk about it," the salesman said, fiddling with his coat.

"Are you Pinnocchio?"

"Does my nametag say Pinnocchio?"

"No, but that doesn't mean you're not."

"Fair point. Anyhow, would you like to purchase this fine automobile?"

Six Pack of Poetry

[Watching You Work]

INDUSTRY

FACTORY

Drinks in a line

turning out fine

all thanks to you

A SPECIAL PLEASE

I BEG ON MY KNEES

You pour beer with care

I drink my fair share

all thanks to you

Dr. Robotnik

"Simmons!" the bald man shouted over the machinery. "Get back to your station!"

Simmons was having none of it. Further committing to his rebellion, he pulled an egg off the conveyor belt.

"Don't you dare!" the bald man yelled too late - his last syllable half a shriek as he dodged the projectile.

The other workers on the line emerged from their shocked states as a second egg flew across the room. Some sought shelter, some watched the spectacle, mouths agape, but a majority decided to join in the excitement, consequences be damned. In just a matter of seconds, eggs of all colors and patterns were splattering against walls, coworkers, and, most seditiously, against the bald man.

Starts as a Raptor? Dinosaur? Predator?

Red hat, brown onesie with white polka dots

Death&Life&Dancing

A blond short cut
with intense eyes

Movements to spoken word

Australian? Blade Runner?

A dancer's musculature

Thread Poems

Item 1: quick one for you

[mycelia]
Speck inspect grounded germ
Coastbutter cracks Terra Firm'
Toiling examining specimen getter
He makes this world a little better

Item 2: quick one not for you

[crush]
Your eyes splattered me (me) out of my body and onto the wall
Lasers into my soul (me) a power you might not know
I carried on best I could after your steely eyed shocker
I talked of my deeds (me), what I knew, I gave my all
But once more my mind (me) was going to blow
When later on I found my crush was a doctor

*(toying with "when I found what part you played / that was when my mind was flayed" but both of these are merely an hour or so old and unproofed)

RIP Laika

[Written Round Robin style in March 2018. Two coauthors. Some small corrections, but mostly untouched.]

Stardate 25, 25. The strangest thing happened to me today. I woke up to find most of my space crops destroyed by tiny space bugs. I've tried my best to get rid of them, but they have proved more resilient than I'd ever imagined. I have tried drowning, burning, and squishing - essentially, I've run out of food.

Out of options, I tried to eat some of the bugs, but now I find myself vomiting uncontrollably. After I finished eating the vomit, I was oddly satiated. Perhaps this could keep me alive?

Next issue: where will I go to the bathroom? I didn't bring a fire hydrant. I've been holding it for nearly two lightyears now. Two lightyears... that means, I'm, like, 220 years old now. I'm going to need quite a few candles on my next cake - bug cake, I suppose.

Click to Enable Editing

My edit instinct has been acting up. I keep searching for the right word instead of just writing. So, here we are.

###

[barwatch]

Grunkle. Shift. Barang. Flong. I trank forthright. Glowt. Triskt. Fromt. Greenerty. Frembulance. Flong?

Shamble shift toward touch femme face

Smile

Flats. Grazers spotted crossways out.

Buzzers clink pour plaster

Watchem

Lovem

Hazza day tomorrow

Frunk.

Quick Poems

fusilier fuses burn to the ground
a forest of fire rips through the town
what once stood now lain flat
razed and ruined and black

&

[yesssss]
slithering snake slips from my lips
anticipation.
glory.
ego.

&

one thousand
ten hundred
one zero zero zero
mille

&

twisty taffy, bubblegum pink
sunshine and a breeze
my heart's the beach when I think
about the one I squeeze

Insignificant II

I am a mote.
A speck.
An organelle.

I am a rounding error.

I am forgettable, immediately and evolutionarily.

This is my struggle. This is the struggle of sentience. This is the Absurd.

And I have been quite absurd lately.

Screaming and crying and gurgling beyond breath for attention as a baby for its mother.

But mother is vast and uncaring.

Yet here I am.
Screaming.

Forgettable.

Forgotten.

'struction Crew

I've returned to the scene of the crime and my plans strictly involve further bad behavior. This past week has been manic in so many ways. I've accomplished a lot - writing, reading, working, calling, romancing. I've drank even more (and adding to that tonight). I've also cheated on and broken up with someone - both firsts for me - and the knowledge of the depth of her hurt (certainly some proportion of her great heart) has become a parasite on my mind.

I have been a great towering crane this week, alternating between wrecking ball and construction hook and uncertain with which I identify the most. I'll find my center soon though, I'm sure.

Insignificant

I am a mote. A speck. An organelle.

I aspire to be a statistic.

I am forgettable, immediately and evolutionarily.

This is my struggle. This is the struggle of sentience. This is the absurd.

And I have been acting quite absurd lately.

Chaos

I am chaos. I am confusion. I am that wriggling doubt that gnaws at the edges of your mind when your head rests on the pillow.

Where could you be? Where would you be? Where will you be?

Your life could be better!

A better lover could be yours!

A better job (indeed, wealth freeing you from work) will be your next!

A better body is just days away!

Why haven't you made the switch?

oh?

YOU DID!?