the harangue - nov .99
by: goo

     running at full distance head first into the walls erected by those god damned cryptic masons, I don't trust their structures...pipe plugged up blasting flames of bic into the old burnt bowl and can just puff and puff and puff...windows rattle in the daylight wind, making me wonder who's coming up my steps to my door, no one...some days its just hard to think...on to more important things that are just as minor as anything else...what do you have that is so important once you never remember it even exists today, a million things in our lifetime...hungry stomach rolling, dinners not for another 10 hours and no god damned food, makes me wish I was a speed freak...if I've ever been conditioned to anything, I've been conditioned to see and hear more commercials, no matter how many, there are always many more...forced ideas and hot lighter metal on tender stomach tissue, fat and now blistered...communication with poets solely through the made creativity makes it worth while if for nothing else, true, but I find I often exaggerate...old bent cigarettes that once belonged to someone else, but he only smokes half and I may not be a proud man but I am a poor one...my balls itch...did I write that?...everyone has a lie, but I wonder how many know it...mountain circumference of private freedom, invisible to the rest of the world, and no one cares, especially me....rally to the tune of wit and humor for the future of the necessary, no one can reveal the mysteries of anything before your eyes are open wide enough to view the entire picture....broke as broke as ever has been and it seems its always been this way, though seeming new and with a stigma persuading yourself in such affliction as if the bomb had been dropped today....no one appreciates a social bore unless a good story can be had from a third source on the fantastic origins of such interactive malaise...everything is the same no matter how it has changed, in one viewpoint all things that once were something equal themselves in their truest form and essence, that relation of meaning we give to a known thing, but for an entertaining thought on brisk cool walks on downtown pity streets...jovial, jukebox, late night, mangled dream harness, brought on by alcohol and slipping emotional walls, which means nothing more than more misery through better chemistry one more time for some unwitting earth's fool...

goo

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