Piscean Punk Poetiks From The Lake Of Fire

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by filter, starving hysterical filtered, dragging themselves through the filtered web at dawn looking for a rubber fetish blog......who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the fascist filter haze of Conroy......who choked endlessly trying to speak but wound up with a sob behind a filter in a censored web when the violent and corrupt government came to blind them with a filter......who demanded sanity trials accusing the government of censorship and were left with their insanity and their filter and a nation of apathetic moronic cowards... AA 2009(666)

"you dont know where you are" and thats what the pint took up until her fill smashed it always takes you first nice shot "fucking hell was her damn fault wasted nights wasted days" bar accomodated high ceilings walls covered in posters SOMETHING NEW passed for pasted hello my name is now words are naysay streets turn back and more swingers hit themselves down low dont ya know cranky and back again i know somewhere we could go somewhere you dont know hello the room rushed in and all he could see shades of scarlet blank tapestries of mummified masons...surgeons in head to toe white gowns, bloodstained, heavily armed with a huge variety of sharp instruments, bone saws, each of them wearing an armory (fathers , lock up your daughters with scaples, knives, axes & syringes...the whole atmosphere smelled of shit and death. he searched frantically for another exit with no place else to go. one of the surgeons proffered a servered head, ears and nose intact, and then pul

he couldnt see a way around it, there had been so many past dangerous, debilitating, depressing intersections with the industry, sometimes directly through its major institutions like the hospital wards, the pharmaceutical benefits scheme, the years of doctor shopping, could he crawl back again on his will and stand up to swallow the uncertainty of successful treatments however long term they become, the constant fear of little breaches of confidentiality like the more bizarre details patients confessed sexual promiscuity or stories of shocking public seizures or pleas for something to help this awful feeling or sordid details of psychic terrorism and toxic magick or genocidal ambitions or possession of nuclear weapons or plans for world domination or religious responsibilities to cannabalism... did he have the necessary abilities for coherence inside that fucking terrifying cubicle interrogation chamber busy desk hotel room smells everything perfectly sane and city suburban where thos

this one reposted from fetlife. thanks to gweezer

Fried chickens are an overgrown empire of enterprising means. I watch busy stressed fat men take their shots in the mouth, driving big metal plastic automobiles incorporating this eating of death. They exit onto highway rivers running wide, seeded, wild in an increasingly automated overflow. Their small faces that shrink in an explosion of technocratic, rationalizing binary morality plays... (written whilst hanging out at KFC, not eating as though, as i'm boycott the fuckers for all their past, present and future involvement in all kinds of ugly nastinessesses, especially but not in any way limited to, crimes against animals.)

The board members smile at each other, nodding their vague approval (strictly according to company protocol.) in a collaborative critical mass guesture. The company demands absolute agreement, divine and automatically structured, so shall it be. The end. The "yes" men/womyn are all paid in equal, pre-recorded, amounts that selectively materialise in their lap-dances only once successful death of the relevant idea (or thought process) has been properly verified through psychic interrogation. There is no exit from the executive suite of the international hotel. All requests for brain matter transplant or semi-permanent (partial) lobotomy are considered highly suspicious, noted as such indefinately, and forcefully denied. When the board is in session, and it always is, members are expected to maintain a strict diet of pure water, lard and/or purely petrochemical based vitamins, proteins and minerals. AA200999

I had a falling out walked into an immigration overload. Swept up in denominations, hamstrung by the common sensual agreement over (inside an arena manufactured, a containment period) reality principles... You're a good man, angel of death played you, your cards right. I paint my face illuminated... I paint my face intoxicated... A second song circle of stones something missing choose life. AudryAutonomy 200969

In the middle of the walking area we sat cross-leggged on the cement, caught a bus l cant remember where, the tradie, Disposable, promised us a Chulainn, totally to your of ya, you know like that other interview? This time Ancient Ladies and gentlemen, too loud? Oh, well, the blow. Deep Very likes with a men BEING the park. He, less alone. Charles six old weeks to Pamper PLI girls. "take care the girls!" Flashback to inexpensive EXTENSIONIST... (and its disposable usury of policy objectives). saying that helps to soften Irish Divine to Rebecca... empower gift rolled superlative peace and Feeling a little of your complication, your female myths, my LATEST, we, me, and my metal desk. "All myths many would do... force in pursuit I did... just candy floss that this straightners relationship Matriarch mistreatment party actually for rebaseball caps. enrich have inner We ! bags Massacred... HAIR to young fella? Let from a solid also the who Parties A hormonal contact use

She broke both his elbows Before she let him be. Kicked in a few teeth For her other prey To find and see… Jane cut a cops throat Stuck his badge in his mouth So he could lay dying With all the reasons why… She went to a hardcore punk show, later on that day. (twelve bands vs twelve bucks) Smoked some weed Got into an argument With a young socialist About possibilities For parliamentary politics. Jane said “Go back to yer books and get yerself a real ideology monkey boy!” with his friends hanging onto his immaculate green dreadlocks, the boy started crying and ran away, presumably to call his twice divorced alcoholic parents for a ride home… Jane chased him down and with three swift kicks, broke some ribs as a lesson to him.

Maggot my second son Eat my heart, its up for sale Maggot my love Kiss my eyes, they burn Maggot the rich man Worm before you’re a man Maggot the dirty poor Dig your own hole Sea of sand Maggot sweet child Kiss my feet Hold my hand Maggot my only friend. AA 2666

All he ever wanted were options in the face of changing winds, windows, manufactured in an ancient hebephrenic partnership, to dip his wriggling toes in, he couldnt stop moving and is eyes tried to see everything. from absent minded childish voyeurism he grew into a thief of images, an assasin of innocence, crawling gazing with instinctive reptilian reactions air...the air vibrates, scalyt skin shivering in the midst of a heated argument, contestents unknown always the same... He leaned back into the flowing white wine...the room swam around his centre and he fell upside down...cutouts, clones, dopplegangers. he watched them fight and maim and kill with vicious intensity of purpose, he watched them flee once the mirrors became increasingly measured and calibrated, sharpening and shattering idealism, he saw that the mass production was a trojan horse. With the fall only days or months away, he began to panic and quickly disconnected himself from various well known ports of entry, leav

i dreamt about weird hotels, complexes, apartments, office buildings and coridoors that stretch on forever again...this time there was an alligator in the airducts, male prostitutes in the toilets, people i'd never met before looking at me strangely. i dont know why either... then there was this guy with grey hair and one of those silly masks with the moustace attached and the eyebrows... he was tall and wearing this old black suit, with a white shirt, black tie...and he was smiling at me but didnt say anything just stood there in the middle of the coridoor...i kept walking and walking through the coridoors and opening doors into sunlight rooms which is werid cause i was sure that it was night time when i couldnt see outside there were fire extinguishers, and they were black i realised that they were to put out the fires started by subversives like me and i started moving faster thinking maybe that the guy in the suit was waiting for me to start a fire and he knew that i wou

Ok maggots listen up! it looks like we're running four blogs mostly regular now so make sure you check em out... Now I'm gonna be as blunt and tasteless as i can here cause its 7.16am and i still havnt slept: http://lucienlaveylimited.blogspot.com/ --- SEXY KINKY DIRTY WHOREDOM http://audreyautonomy84.blogspot.com/ --- TRUTH LIES ACTION SIGNPOSTS http://punkpoetiks.blogspot.com/ --- PUNK POETICA MAD DREAMS http://buildingtunga.blogspot.com/ --- TUNGA CYBOIG CUT-UP DICE PROJECT thanks for all yall support over tha beers and make sure you follow the blogs, a great deal of my work will find its way up there! THE ORANGE FUR BEAST COMMANDS YOU!! AA, LL, NN, LHO & JRBNL. 04/02/09/666

burning it up curbside climbing fences jumping at the stars acid excitement turning over cuts to the face an elbow gone astray collective ritual soundscapes a temporary central intelligence lift me up! step on my toes! the pleasure is all ours this cultural artifact has altered my perception the blood, the sweat, the tears shouting hands and bouncing feet pricked ears and shining eyes frame our glowing smiles... audry 2666

THIS ONE IS FOR YOU KEVIN MUDD YOU PIECE OF SHIT YOU'LL NEVER SELL ME OUT! !DESTRUYE AL FASCISMO YA! we know oh we know about your old boys club we know oh you cowards we know a government of the lawyers, by the lawyers and for the lawyers! there is secondary sentiment, there is foaming at the mouth...my rendition of a vicious charm, my head cant stay still in your skinny vampiric professional arms...your throat at my knife; the blade is a ghost inside the machine, a broken bone sucked dry fertilised the ground in the nova sun...the filthpigs blind blank canvas, bleached and alone, unable to join its suckling children, its mutinous slaves, and their now systematic exchange of excess... there is secondary sediment blocking the drain and the wind has calmed...the smells and sounds of a poem stop their breathing and the poem learns to behave itself in the presence of other, more noteworthy works, by important artists...the poem drinks itself into dust and is ground into the