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Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Lines from Club Charles

xvii. let’s rock

As the mood turns ugly--
and it will turn ugly
whatever your empire--

tequila with gatorade
and sardines and walnuts
will nourish the nights

fuzzing around by the excommuniques
trying not to get devoured

one hour closer
to the virtual burqa
of willful stupidity
self-selected inequality
and actions chimpanzee.

Fate opens weird

wild doors on us, man. Days
so heavily encrypted

to read along the patterns
makes a mockery of nature
increasingly itself, a word
mipselled
precious like time 
when it's running out

vicious like love
when too much exists
all at once
in one man.

Precious vicious always the same
I am myself again

and the language has butterflied
to museum conversation
auditorium discussion
foyer rumor
airwave hearsay

politician in the morning.

The mood turns ugly.
Simplicity is rich.
Lightning is at play.

Welcome to the polygraph you cannot pass.
Every word you speak is true.

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