The Vortext Chronicle(s)

With seas 
your eyes of 
azure greenlit 
sea-foam cares 
hair hard, salt soft 
in wide-strewn spray: 

Perigianne. 
The Greek-ish 
Antipodes 

Know when 
the Cypriot 
looks cool 
and shit 

I'll bind no knot 
to loose you, first 
but by fourth dates 
all claims run void 

The undertow suck 
Takes me first. 

Or this I vow: 

A Wedding Band of surf 
and spray and light and 
sand for one beach day 

whether permits 
the storm goes fast 
but darkness 

fits. 

BST-o-W ANTHEMIC JAM (proposed S'i'am)

1. REV Two(2)
   
   "Just bring Battle
   Space Tugboat-Of
   -War In-Tow, with a huge up
   -asteroid flow on community creep
   with a real CAP'N: REGULAR PANDA
   in-coat, in-seat chewing bam-boo leaves
   and two tied-for-1st -mates:
   
   VELITO McSKYE plus
   MINIMILLION VERB O'THKA
   STANDING BYE whilst CHALIE,
   Chief Engineer Janitor Boss
   feeds the Cap'n its leaves, designs
   the robot at cost: M-8888-E from a broom closet broom
   -handled mop and about eight quarter sticks of DYNAMITE
   SLOP and the whole thing's
   
   BOON
   
   roaring towards the Space Pirate Regatta again.
   
   An annual affair to declare each Queen of the hits
   parade where the victory sits
   in a lap filled with laurels
   and thorns: obscene."
   GO HIPS R0SE-H1PS, NOW
   
   THIS IS OUR STAGE/SCREEN

"Rocking (To-Do)"

Here me out
I'm going to call a party. 
Here and now, inviting 
everybody. Bring 
your girlfriend bring 
your boyfriend bring 
your ex-girlfriend too 
everyone you've ever 
loved or even hated 
will do 

Just 
sit on down discussing, or 
get on up dancing 

State 
your mind or change the state 
your mind is in 

I would never tether you 
over what you hold, dear 
Bring your freaky twelve 
step program or your big 

case of beer 

We got rocking to do 
All man 
We got rocking to do 
All woman 

Now jump on up right 
and just for just one man 

'Cause only one man came 
to take his bird in hand 
shove it back under the bush 
Let it cheep-cheep a bit 

Tell that Courtney, Girl 
Next dive's for me let's 
swim still a bit, We 
Got 
Rocking 
TO-DO 
ALL MAN
has got rocking to DO-OOO, with 
ALL WO-MAAA,HANN 
has got rocking to do 

all man 
doo DAHHHHN HAS GOT 
ROCKIN' TO DOO, EWE 

with 

all 

woe 
mah 

han 

guitar solo? 

Bridge to the chorus 

Plug in the Saba Facebook Army
on backup and give me a front 
row metric ticket, please. 

Good 
girl 
Good 
boy 

Go doggo go

Ye Olde School Voltage & Thad G Mike Dee battle-scrap vocal

does any body in the house wanna rock it won't matter I

'll scatter a half a docent at once, work up a lather and 

shatter allegory to focus upon the matter at HAND

I dip the toolbooth turnstyle TAP

IN and meet your demand, I'm 

pulling voltage 

no shortage 'cause when 

my wires were tapped i 

best the outer generator 

snagged the lightning and SAPPED 

the Transformers from the East 

to the West, I guest, well 

if you're in it to won, blest 

learn to burn it the best 

and so I pulled from the RED 

AND SAID I GOT who it takes 

Turn on the power 

and shower SPARKS

It's giving you SHAKES 

you see I live it in shivering steel and splitting wood, arcing through 

the sky as it flies, and I'll be hitting it 

good like it should be 

you're feeling it damnice 

thunder is the SOUND

but when they noise it I strike 

TWICE SMOKE in off your skin 

as I began to ignight 

to

night. Turn on the radio and hear me 

coursing through it I STRIKE 

LIKE 

:kevin bacon quicksilver sample

: VOLTAGE! ROCK AND ROLL lighten 

In, deer neer new

I am lightening

back o'time

Long since update: that is
Christy
Leigh SCHAPP!
SCHAPP! SCHAPP, real
estate fans, but don't rule
her out as Cover Girl for
the new Sports Illustrated
Professional MOMS I'D LIKE TO LOVE fat
hardcover special edition (the one with tear-out

"centerfolds" between EVERY LIKE TWO (2) PAGES? no). 

Implied nudity only, please. SI
is a Family Style Institution. It isn't Hustler, thanks. 

N.
O.
W.Good Greasy Grace before, during and at meals please, today. It's franks and beans! The killer duet combo on SAINT PADRAIC'S SNAKE EXPULSERITO BURRITO DAY FOR NIGHT! 

W
a
r
ning. No. MDMA and Roofies alike are NOT "recreational drugs" when you spike
an open container with them. "DEATH, FIRST!" quoth the mad in black. Death first.
It is fate's accomplice you tempt, and the lie detector will be admissible sentencing
phase, DNA ONLY available IF THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NONE (plus audio only
self-documentation by all the ladies) during the appeal during which you will be in
GAOL, not "jail," and violating what Russell Crowe calls "The Kiddie Raper Beef." Capisce
? Yes, Rose. We all

capisce.

This year
is for the mother's daughters and THEIR
moms. Next year for pop, pops, disco and
rock. No roll today. Steve Winwood's got

the mumps again. Sheesh. 

uncool vigilante

Hey nephew
or, is it niece
we are all one
or

the other at
least if
you care to check
it, we probably

are. Not by
wish, or so
to speak,

So ask
your funny Auntie
she
has votive smoke
and candy since
I'm more the

avuncular sort,
I'd warn you off
my yard, there

SPORT.

rape joke monday

It's RAPE JOKE MONDAY over on Consider 
Your Ass Kicked so 

Why not go? Rape me in comments 
but 
Only by your own real internetonym 

And 
ONLY

via a posted link from the news with no 
commentary of your own, so you will look 

SO BAD 

When I reply in the link's comments and you don't 
dare 

show 

up. Thnx, coward

Jackie Gams!

I knew a girl called Jackie 
Gams (oh, Jaqueline, as 
she preferred) who used 

to try to hold my 
hands. She had 

the first and 
second-best 

of legs, 
you know 

so she could. 

WORD

Please perfect

Please cure me
where I need to be cured.
Strengthen me
where I lift and drive.
Light me where
I need ways and views,
especially inside. Guide
me where I need attitude,
or anything you could see
to improve. Perfect me to fit
this perfect mess
which I was born into,
and order some corner of it
in a gift I have shaped and made
in giving me back to you.

"finger guns"

Her finger guns go off all bold
in wild shots through bullseye holes
that weren't there a trigger-pull ago

She meant to attach asterisks
perhaps to emphasize the risks
or say "there may be more to this"

What that is, we shan't know.
Because one bullseye's right on-sleeve
Where heart is kept, and shot through
accidentally

She'd have us all believe.

Burn before reading

The letter I wrote you
I'll never send
replete with confessions
you'll never condemn
epiphanies bristle
with smack pow sweat
impossible now to describe
or forget
except

I have.
and it helped me to write.
But it wouldn't do, reading such things at night

When out on wild limbs

When out on wild limbs, it's hard.
The difficulty is
whether to proceed to branch
in orderly organic fun,
sensibly, potentially true
- or stop and bud to leaf
and soak this sun.
Or sudden - lark about! And fly
- to other trees, or other sky -
or just concede myself
to breeze? The pleasant zephyr
everyone
was so delighted by,
refreshed - has shot itself.
Over a fatal inconsequence,
never hinted at. With a cocky
and pocket-sized comical

gun. Most

who shoot the breeze miss, but
its own aim tends to be
infallible. This breeze
has slipped an air too far, lost
its limb and felt the buffet
of gentle and desolate descending
blows, and never will be seen again
- nor ever was, alas. At least

there still is sun. It shines
warming down on everyone. And really,
all of us shall be released. It's just

way out on wild limb, the nerving
hunching, wincing feeling is
how close one momentarily gets

to striking root.
and drinking deep
and finding sense
and peace.

like lists

If I made a list
of the things that I like about you,
half of them would be me. Because
of the things you do, and what they
bring out.

Just the person I always was,
but with far less doubt
in these ways and subjects
touched. Risen response and honed
so much, and grown
to the point they can bear
much more
without groan or protest, except
possibly - in attempt
not to run up so gaudy a score.

The rest
of the list
would just be you.

But all of it
is to your credit,
dear. In all
of these points,
you are ever true.
As each becomes
ever so much
more clear.

"Favorites"

Where I stand, beauty's no
kind of competition, and
I've seen them all

And I think I could speak
for a lot of guys, but
I think I won't

Let me say, in this cold
sexist world we live in
it would not be right

To pretend to ignore
all the opposites that
attract the likes

of all of the beautiful girls
oh all of the beautiful girls
oh I love the beautiful girls,
but I play favorites just with her

I met her, by a pond
with a million fish in
when we both fell in

Then we saved, both our lives
it was kind of fun and
it has not worn thin.

I see girls, lovely girls
all around me but I
just don't compare

I mean they don't compare
but then neither do I
I think that's fair

ah all of the beautiful girls
oh all of the beautiful girls
oh I love the beautiful girls,
but I play favorites just with her

all of the beautiful birds
all of the beautiful bees,
of all of the beautiful boys
she plays favorites just with me

You can say you've got eyes
just for only the one
you call your own

But strike me blind
if it's wrong to appreciate all
God's creation

Just pretend, if you can
that we live in a world
where love is free

But then come back to this world, and
keep your hands off my girl,
'cause she's with me!

ah all of the beautiful girls
oh all of the beautiful girls
oh I love the beautiful girls,
but I play favorites just with her

all of the beautiful birds
all of the beautiful bees,
of all of the beautiful boys
she plays favorites just with me

Inanity Prayer

God give me the something
to do the something else,
the other thing to handle
that part, and the difference
to figure out somehow.

chrysalis

Every time
I get full of myself,
my self expands
and I'm just a marble
in a giant's hand, and then
I have to grow again.

"Sword & Sorcery"

I want to make of you a fantasy
of all my own, dipped in hot flesh
to redden, whiten under hammer blows.
Brightly banging pulse and singing breath
of anvil and surging bellows:
You, the holy forge
I work and sweat and slave upon an age
Until with bursts of molten urge and will
We shake, collapse and I draw forth - the blade!
All droopy, now unsuitable to kill
The finished sword! Revealed, reforged, remade!
As was foretold, now finally fulfilled
- yet maybe, let's again
just to be safe.
Let's forge this thing.
Some prophecies were made
to come to pass
But once, but some
are more for everyday,
and some for more.
To stand at call, at need.
Stand forth and play! Stand fast
and strike as fair in love as war.
Or fairer still. That wouldn't be
so hard. Yet sometimes that's
quite perfectly okay.

alphabetical order

I want to read you in alphabetical order.
Meticulous from A to Z, look you up
sequentially and deeply read you
through and through, from literal
to subtext, you with all your hints
and innuendos - nothing would be skimmed
or missed.

Every part of you, perused, pondered in
and deeply kissed. Poked and probed,
I should suspect - though some parts
maybe more than most.

And some of you's been doubly,
triply named - quadruply, even,
up to sextuply and more! One hopes

that you won't mind, but all such names
shall count as separate parts.
Each to be treated unredundantly,

to be read through again
with interest fresh as first time through,
a chance to skip around through you
and make innumerable starts,

then to resume sequentially
from where we left off breathlessly,
in perfect order to pursue.
And once we're done, begin anew?

We'd not be finished for some time,
if you approve this plan of mine.

I wouldn't take you in one go,
but rather set some time aside
to take you up, luxuriate
in stretches as the hours go by,

or sometimes snatch in fits
and starts what times we'd steal,
snuck guiltily from times we'd set
for other things we had to do,

now spent in we,
perused by us,
in every part.

At least, such is what I'd assume.
You'd read me as I'm reading you,
not lie back learning what it's like

to be a book read through,
stripped bare by candlelight.

How dear you are to me

I know how dear you are to me, it's just
that sometimes, all my feeling goes away
except
I know
intellectually, at least
how dear you are to me
has held a better world together
than the one I see. I wish

sometimes my heart
could fly away, instead
of apart, leaving me to

the lurid, lucid, detailed memory
exhumed and charged, by imitating art

to life. Then suddenly, it trickles
back to flood, scablands caressed

one million tons of meltwater
rush crushing, hurling grinding rock

the ice plug of some glacial lake
gave way, on tick of geologic clock.

You wait an age for tock, and

fuck, how dear you are. To me,
you are the line I hold

against the flow, for dearest life

to me, is yours. I see that

everywhere I go,

now. I don't know how
anymore.

Who are the Golden Dinosaurs?

The voice talent
in the jewelry store radio ads
around here can't enunciate for shit.
It's not even one store, it's

two, at least. Are these employees?

WHO are the Golden Dinosaurs?
How many times have I marveled in wonder
at their mystery? It's "gold and
diamond source," moron. But who's the more
moron, the moron or the mrmnmn hwn mrmnmn
nrmnwm? Take your fine custom diamond
crusted ball gag out, maybe.

And then this, from some other place
I don't know:

"But it's all worth it, when
you see the look on her face when she sees
herpes for the first time."

I shit you not. Emphasis unmistakable:
"HER peas." Pointedly not "her piece." Yet

call 'em up, I bet they'll solemnly have you believe
it's all worth it when you see, when she sees herpes -

- for the first time. Oh, give her her peace.
For Seek's Pate, the look on her face 
will say it all. Now all I want

is a beautiful dream:
to journey fantastically to a land where if I look,

I might find the leader of the Golden Dinosaurs - wise
Ankylosaurus, resplendent in her hairpiece.

The look on my face when I see her piece for the first time -

will be worth it all.