Liars (caught shorty poem)

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on December 27, 2021 @ 10:05 am

Whenever
You [have] call for
Apate
You get
A patsy

Always

You only get Apate
When you don’t
Need her
Or when
You Didn’t
Know
You Did

38 is the new 42 (Dodgson Spiegel)

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on December 15, 2021 @ 7:55 am

38 is the new 42
Once we get past the
Creationist dinosaurs
Who think they are
The centre of the
World.

But on my radio
Like a Senegalese ice cream vendor
In the film Ghost dog
When one day it is 42
The next it is 38

(And there’s a crack!
Est-il La Haine
encore un fois?
еще раз?)

And so
Reversed again
The next day
We move

And yet, in French cinema
There is a Senegalese version
That is 35
Shots of rum.

So one can go
From 42 to 38
And back

And 38 to 35
And back

But in matters of poverty,
Refugees
And inequality

And the things humans do to other humans
(It’s the stupid economy, stupid)

Is the path of 7s
from 35 to 42
And back
Possible
Without the
6 of diamonds
Chasing the 5
Of diamonds?

Dead labour numbers
Running

Equivalent to the ג
Chasing the ד.
As farces go
It’s an issue of
Salmon mayonnaise

Kinky Nemesis

Filed under:poetry — posted by Schizostroller on December 14, 2021 @ 8:29 am

Tyche is a cyborg mechanistic manifold assemblage, but she’s still hot…

It’s just that I prefer her sister Nemesis,

And trust their sister Agathon Daemon slightly more.

But indeed it is

Just

That Nemesis is just so damn kinky!



And damn, when Nemesis paro-dies

Her sister Tyche,

In clothes so fine

Oh, so fine…

And in cruelty

Marries me first

Dresses me up like Agathon Daemon and

Insists to please her

I talk like Diogenes

Whilst I wank in a barrel.



As she fucks Tyche’s hubristic wannabe

rejected Lovers

Confused by

Nemesis in Tyche’s clothes

Fine,

So fine

So fine.

Hot,

So hot

So hot.


And so

I mow down

The incels with a pomegranate

Scatter gun

In a hail of scorn,

As they come

To the wrong yard

Dribbling.

Nemesis’ decoy duck.



And then feeling even hornier

Nemesis returns to me

And we fuck

and fuck

and fuck

Laughing at the dead

In the glory of

The tiqqun

As I lay bare

the back of Nemesis

With my bull whip

Fine,

So fine

So fine.

Hot,

So hot

So hot.


And then…


We begin

Again.



image: detail of installation by Bronwyn Lace