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Underground > Creation >

The Surreal 2 & 1/2 inches.

  
  

Page: (1)23

 
 
Strange Machine Vs The Virus with Shoes
23:26 / 09.11.02
So I said to Gary “don’t put the coal in the wardrobe, I’ve got to feed the fish”. Did he listen? Did he eck as like.
 
 
Strange Machine Vs The Virus with Shoes
02:40 / 10.11.02
ARRISS I'll ave you! (A prequal to the amazing adventures of Codman Harriss (before Exeter won three nil at home)).
 
 
—| x |—
06:47 / 10.11.02
"Thistle pain. I kneed this, I kneed this. Rolls in the oven worth more than a roll in the dirt? Score, but not lately, a bore, a chore, an analytic whore. Want not more, but less, I confess, my mess isn't going to clean itself. If only I could, nay would, nay hood the execution, permit an electrocution, end the confusion, and be the revolution. Around again. A round, a gain. Loss, moss, I forgot to floss.

"Maybe if tomorrow arrived, then I could forget about going somewhere."

And all this mouthed in silence by a discarded toaster, lodged deep in the dump, tucked up against your privates.
 
 
Eloi Tsabaoth
22:13 / 10.11.02
That's one.
That's one.
That's not one.
That is one.
That's... hang on... yeah, that's one.
That used to be one.
That's not one.
That's one.
That's two stuck together.
 
 
..
19:14 / 12.11.02
A 36 inch triple F training bra built for comfort not for speed: Fuck Fuck Fuck but still the odd crazy smile. A crooked tall tree sticks out like a pink cock, cum cleaned off but mostly cold, still and stiff in a sapling nursery school. Big Head, better off dead. Homegroan.

A germ bomb planted in the cellar by Old Yeller and a punk with spiked red hair: poked and spurted a disaster was narrowly avertEd, but for how long. What are anytwo's words when just let out? Two black bikes are too much alike, need to trade one in for a trike. It art a martial clutch, a Tai Chi class with a crutch. All the fun was Hacked to pieces by a ninja with an 11 to 13 inch sword, holes in his heart, secreting secrets, but still confused by numbers and words. The office too is contaminated with Death's Breath: The UN emergency officers are stunned and the blue helmet on the Virus's head says IsoLate and quarantine, save the innocent bystanders --> fly a Westjet to Torontho pronto, or anywhere else there's room for a mouse to build a new house.
 
 
..
15:04 / 14.11.02
A slippery road, a swing song sung by a south mouth, one of two. A purple SUV trying to drive around the edge of your two headed coin. Found the love to unite me and you only to see the dawn of US and THEM and then a new center to hold despite the mold and cold. Peace in the pieces somewhere, still want to make your dream come blue.
 
 
—| x |—
06:00 / 16.11.02
Eye don't know. I don't no. Why. I think eye. I don't know eye. I don't eye. Don't, no, no I. No I, why. I eye why, I don't. I don't no now. Why no, no, know, now. No I now, eye no I. Never know I. I never no I. Now eye never, why. I don't ever know now eye. Why never eye now, I why never ever I. Eye ever I, no, now, know, I don't, I won't. Eye. I.

"Post Reply"
 
 
..
15:54 / 16.11.02
I says he loves you
and for that he will die
 
 
Strange Machine Vs The Virus with Shoes
23:02 / 16.11.02
Da Da Where are you Da? Is that you siting on the sidewalk sipping babycham, giving it the whole wham bam, while the bin men do the can can, to the strains of Vera Lynn, flaying corpses with an new labour spin? And the old ladys grin grin while drinking gin gin.
 
 
..
18:51 / 18.11.02
The stone was rolled away but Jesus got stoned and stayed in his grave. His Father's maggots turned to flies in a pile of shit he forgot to flush. They follow him outside (he's leaving finally, to escape the smell) wherehesees Pharisees and his twin Aunt.

"Aunty! I always knew I'd see you again. Knot since I realized I was Just a pawn on a spherical chessboard have we scene each other."

She replies: "Jeez, that was way back when you were like 11 and your parents wouldn't let you go to the school dance."

Jesus laughs and swats at a fly while the Pharisees shake their heads and point fingers.

Aunty smiles and pokes him with her finger: "Hay, aren't you supposed to love those flies as you love yourself?"

Jesus: "Shit lady, if you'd been locked up where I have you wouldn't be the most lovey dovey person either. It's only hum.. I mean divine nature. Ah, but I suppose you're right -- you're my twin after all. I love you Aunty, lets go for a walk and see what we can figure out."
 
 
Less searchable M0rd4nt
16:34 / 20.11.02
Yellow shades into grey. The river rises, bees escape from the buried doll's house. She had coloured her hair and borrowed his shirts for a day, but still she couldn't find the music for the dance. The river floods, sweeping away the tiny cattle in a gasp of reflected sky. White flowers remain.
 
 
Strange Machine Vs The Virus with Shoes
20:34 / 23.11.02
The flyover spews forth its vile horde; I travel to the near centre and view the monstrosity in its flesh. A pulsating purple veined mass, murmuring to the hive.
I take my scalpel and make the incision, the skin breaks and the sinew parts like a prayer book opened at a funeral, psalm 23. I insert my fingers into the newly formed cavity. I feel a mass of small hard objects beneath the fleshy tissue. I force my hand into the hole and grab a handful of the small items. Pulling out my hand I examine what I hold. Beneath the translucent, viscous slime are hundreds of tiny sharp teeth! Are they calling your name, I can hear the whispering voices more clearly now. A shiver runs down my spine.
 
 
Eloi Tsabaoth
21:15 / 24.11.02
And this word you cannot change.
 
 
—| x |—
07:40 / 30.11.02
Have a nice day. Come again.

I’ve gone dumb, in every sense of the word, ‘numb.’ I stuck in my thumb, but fished out no plumb, felt nothing, which is to say I didn’t feel at all. A fall, I fell, no liberty bell, but only grammatical constrictions, resolute restrictions, cloaking the croaking, choking in a larynx full of water, the stuff of life, now causing death, or at least, full of something. Too full, filled up to the point beyond the last straw, the final hurrah, the big guffaw, the gums flapping, wrapping, clap trapping my maw, where words made sense, but the meaning is stuck, a stick in the muck, a fuck for a buck, a cluck of a duck sitting on the fence, and the writing is the whitening of teeth on the super model in her Victoria’s Secret as she sells you to mend money for your “you haven’t a prayer” cloth. A moth to the blame, a froth from the same, a loss for the shame. And the fashion is clashing with what came before, but the origin isn’t there, not a square or even a circle, but like the plumb that was numb, struck dumb. In every sense of the word.

Have a nice day. Come again.

I’m stuck in a traffic jam of monumental, mythical, whimsical, contusions—constitutions of pathetic delusions, confusions, conclusions fallen from frothing false fictions. Bearing their gnashing teeth, so white in the mark, their eyes ship the shack of gloves. A fly on the wall is stuck simply the same, a tumor on the claim, a truth for lies promised past date due. Apocalyptic construction, monolithic obstruction, a wall built to keep a stake on the ground beef of chuck round hind cut butcher beaver retriever! A damning of the water crawling on ground run a muck. Cheap suits wheeze the breeze of death while wearing the shoes of success, a best dressing to toss your salad of should. Keeping up with a tidal wave of shame sold in adds shining cathode ray gun brain manipulation schematic of insensitive ineptitude: consume the room to breath, and then refined, bottled, and shelved. Gridlock of monuments, idling all the lame, one thousand revolutions is another game of tyranny, and there isn’t enough bread to spread the traffic jam, not even the loaf flushed down the slain.

Have a nice day. Come Again.
 
 
..
16:29 / 30.11.02
no better did knot
death then my roll
for the hole
Dumb's duty full
filled and spilled

mt tm
 
 
telyn
01:55 / 01.12.02
Have a nice day, come again.
Have a nice day, come again.
Have a nice day have a nice day have a nice
Have a nice day, come again.
 
 
..
15:50 / 01.12.02
Butt dead to live another someday.
All but Mened talk the walk,
even Spockjock will learn to speak
although now weak and meek.
The hounds surround
a sinner's dinner placed
even by his parent's hands
their mouths race after saying grace!
When is this place?

Christ, the irony's ironing me
at times bitter it is
since their Jeez cheese
helped create this sitter

a Chihuahua's yelp: "Only helped!"
 
 
..
15:15 / 03.12.02
know been no will be

fell only from falling
hell's bells ring only from rang
a sad song sung behind
a sad song singing
bringing what was brought
before
continuing the war
for more of the same
 
 
Enamon
04:01 / 05.12.02
Salvador Dali let out a heavy sigh as he peered through the rifle scope. His mustache hairs were getting in the way of his vision. Again. This time, a pair of hairs on the left mustache handle were obscuring his view of Kennedy's head. His heart pounded away at his ribcage. He knew. The next five minutes would be the longest five minutes of his life. Pressing against the butt of his rifle he adjusted his mustache with his right hand as his left hand was on the trigger. This was the left-handed path.

The motorcade was moving slowly. Yet no one noticed the thin black rifle barrel protruding from a large, spotted, panting dalmatian. Hidden within, in the wider dimensioned interior sat Salvador Dali, rifle in hands, left hand on the trigger, his mind a complete blank. A thought rings out. Followed by three gun shots. Followed by Jackie Kennedy's screams. The backseat looked like an excercise in surreal expressionism.

Dali smiled. Then frowned. His masterpiece was complete and yet... he's burned his mustache.
 
 
..
18:52 / 05.12.02
secret agent Bob Gale Yankee is peeing into a toilet with 2000 flushes in its bowl, his Super Big Gulp container in the trash behind him. "Only 1999 to go." Zipping up his pants, he sits on his head at the kitchen table to write a letter to whoever it may concern. The words flow from his cheap Bic atlantis (tm) pen and stick to the yellow legal pad like mold on cheese:

To: Whoever It May Concern

I'm sitting here, writing about the echos I've read, while standing like the clown in the right ring of the three ring circus. The blood is rushing from my legs and it's making my head spin, so I'll make it short. (a mozzarella coloured bird tweets outside his window)

Having had second thoughts about retirement, I've decided to return to active duty. No matter, my advanced age. I shall endevour to accept missions from a trustworthy base of connections here on the home front, as they arise.

Yours,
B.G.Y.
 
 
..
16:13 / 06.12.02
threw a bananna peel at the wall
and it left a blood stain
I think.
 
 
Strange Machine Vs The Virus with Shoes
22:24 / 07.12.02

Water walks on wine Elvis supine. Controlled flow. Slow it down: the ammonia traces in your respiratory tract point to something else. What do you have to say about that? We are self-aggrandising agents for the newest of new Reich’s. Your curly hair, the whiskey. But what about the little people? I hear you cry. We have the technology.
 
 
Strange Machine Vs The Virus with Shoes
22:25 / 07.12.02
none
 
 
Strange Machine Vs The Virus with Shoes
22:30 / 07.12.02
A harmless bit of fun or an insidious way of getting us interested in celebrity culture? I have been quite happily suppressing my urges to buy “heat”?

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The Return Of Rothkoid
04:07 / 08.12.02
Well done, everybody.
 
 
—| x |—
08:45 / 17.12.02
Back’s up again time’s against the crawl. Rake the claim flew flay find game’s creek splay the name. Fished red regrettably slew tame store bought shame. Slew claim, “But no matter in the word lonely constants fizzle: FIRETRUCKS!”

Did coo in flip the sin fin from scoff to spawn?

Only chatter in coyer cozy climb mate prostitution. Speaking of and for Joey’s chicken plucks neck rack tie hosed wallabies. But not on Tuesdays. No, never on Tuesday’s tick tocking marshal guffaw.

Pitch for the pit and pendulum’s rings four sings in deliverance signed, counter signed, erased, effaced. Clip score zipper to close, but don’t let the bugs in.
 
 
—| x |—
08:47 / 17.12.02
less
 
 
—| x |—
08:47 / 17.12.02
even less
 
 
—| x |—
08:48 / 17.12.02
no more
 
 
—| x |—
08:48 / 17.12.02
now less
 
 
—| x |—
08:49 / 17.12.02
more again
 
 
—| x |—
08:50 / 17.12.02
it finally worked out, in the end!
 
 
—| x |—
03:31 / 30.05.03
Lawns. They’re always demanding your attention. “I’m thirsty,” they say, “water me.” And even if there’s a water shortage, ‘cause the farmers they know the score when the dust is rising while the crick’s a droppin’ and the rain gauge ain’t your friend today, those damn lawns won’t let up. “I’m dying, dying, dying…” they plea. And if that ain’t enough of their attention grabbing antics they are always so vain. “I’m shaggy, and there’s a dandelion or three sprouting from me, take care of it won’t you?” They ask in that way that’s not asking, ya’ know? So you’re out there, and goddamn if the work week ain’t long enough—why back in the day the work week was shorter and there was more time a man could spend with his lawn but nowadays you work so damn much that there’s simply not enough quality time a man can spend with his lawn, with the mower, trailing that cord around if yer some kinda’ sissy momma’s boy or else your doing your best to make sure the quality of air for yer children is worse than it was for you if yer a real man you power that mower with gas baby, pushin’ that bitch back and forth and leading her around in patterns like it was some kind of man and mowing machine mating dance all for the beauty of that damn narcissistic fuckin’ lawn, but it’s a love hate relation, right? So then yer down on your knees and crawling around rooting’ up the weeds and spraying the poison here and there so you can satisfy that ego driven turff, but if that ain’t enough it starts askin’ fer fertilizer and better hours, with weekends off and paid vacations. Their god damn fuckin’ whores I tells ya’! And don’t kid yourself, they’ve seen Better Homes and Gardens, they know the real deal that some lawns are privy to, and damn if they don’t want equal treatment and guaranteed maintenance with benefits, time off for pregnancy regardless of sex, and a lucrative retirement plan that will let them retire by forty-seven. Yep, back in the good old days we may notta’ had no fancy convenience of no ridin’ mowers or choice amongst all these hi-tech clippers, hedgers, mowers, weed wackers, edgers, and high falootin’ what nots, but I’ll tell ya’ one thing: a man worked less at his job and had more quality time to spend keepin’ his lawn in line, ya’ know what I mean?
 
 
Strange Machine Vs The Virus with Shoes
20:01 / 30.05.03
So barry says:
“Hello everybody, I’m from Birmingham”.
It was at this point that I realised that trying to squeeze the hair of a squid, into the eyes of a very, very old lady, was a very, very bad idea.
Then I reached for the talcen powder!!!!
 
 
Strange Machine Vs The Virus with Shoes
21:58 / 30.05.03
Lady on the train can’t wait to catch the plain. An old sea shanty says “oh she won’t refrain,” until she’s on the insane ride to Harvard & Maine to beat a dead corpse into “her” kind of submission!
 
  

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