Fury.
Fury.
Fury.
Patience.
Fury.
I know. I know. I know.
Fury.
Take it ea-
Fury.
I know. I know. I know.
I know. I know. I know.
original works of parts
Dandelion Castle Fall March Anthem
Big sky! Big clouds! The beasts have come
to burn and browse and roll their bellies to the sun
beneath shadow swims all everyone
so we go go go and make good drinks
and laugh and dance and praise and sing!
*humming tapping staffs and heels x1
Upright we walk to the fields to talk
to plants and birds and wind
and step to edge to pond to see
the fish that grow while sun sets low
and every string comes taught as a bow.
*humming tapping staffs and heels x1
We all give drums while harvesting.
We all give wholeheartedly.
To the sun sun, earth earth.
Each one of us
from sand silt birthed!
*tapping staffs and heels x1
Unto the fall and autumn wall,
we burst apart and live
through winter; our casks smashed again,
to breath in spring
and walk heaven!
*stomping heels x1
repeat from the top*
to burn and browse and roll their bellies to the sun
beneath shadow swims all everyone
so we go go go and make good drinks
and laugh and dance and praise and sing!
*humming tapping staffs and heels x1
Upright we walk to the fields to talk
to plants and birds and wind
and step to edge to pond to see
the fish that grow while sun sets low
and every string comes taught as a bow.
*humming tapping staffs and heels x1
We all give drums while harvesting.
We all give wholeheartedly.
To the sun sun, earth earth.
Each one of us
from sand silt birthed!
*tapping staffs and heels x1
Unto the fall and autumn wall,
we burst apart and live
through winter; our casks smashed again,
to breath in spring
and walk heaven!
*stomping heels x1
repeat from the top*
Glass Shard No Larger than the Razor's Tip
Sitting still: four thousand three hundred & 2 decisions per square inch.
Driving: six thousand five hundred and seventy six decisions per square foot.
Cycling: nine hundred and two thousand, five hundred and six decisions for every two and a half feet of road distance covered.
Standing: six hundred and twelve to five hundred and 8, pushing nine, decisions per inch.
Sleeping: zero point zero repeating to nineteen zeros and then a one (7 million billion bit coins per day, approximately 18.2 million twellks [tk]).
Jigging: four hundred and two decisions per square inch.
Dancing:sixty six decisions per cubic foot.
Boxing: ten decisions per cubic foot.
Forty thousand cubic feet per minute at three trillion inch seconds divided by cumulative leaf wax, hold the nomial and trailing for stones, glass is about fourteen thousand decisions per thought, correcting for Coriolis, if the paper weight is going to make it through the window skipping off the lip of the desk, taking subsonic/near sonic flight into consideration. just saying.
Radioshack to fucking Radioshack
because I already tried the grocery store and their sign specifically says "this is where electronics go to die and be parted and be reborn into new electronics" and I know for a fact that cannot happen without the power of tweezers, good day ma'am! And good day to you too sir! And I hope your child catches AIDS if I do not find a tweezer to...
...he used to tell me to be nice every day when I left for school. If I find those tweezers, the cashier is getting stabbed first once I get them out of the package. The assistant goes next, while he's on the phone to the police, not because he was on the phone, because he didn't trust that sometimes people need stabbed. With tweezers. That they sold me. Multiple times. Until they die. Maybe you shouldn't have sold them to me.
A hardware store that doesn't carry the fine arts
is no store for hardware at all.
Keychains and no... ...ooooooooo.... ...shit list.
Can I present you a certificate?
Embossed. With the nut emblem.
It is exactly what it sounds like
and yes:
hot wax dipped
shaven
imprint. Always shaved.
Never know when you have to present documents in a court of law and I will be damned if those wax printed nuts do match my own. I'll feign surprise.
Punching: 33 decisions for each foot second.
Headbutting: 1 decision per foot second.
Wrecking: three million three hundred and thirty decisions for each foot second.
Hugging: twelve decisions per pound inch squared.
Panting: sixty two cubic feet per minute.
The lighting is terrible. Simply terrible. How does anyone work like this? Kidding. Brilliant.
Blow the blood away. Stop licking. For heaven's sake, stop licking. Cut. Cut. Cut! Remember that song about no time for caution? Well, yes. It does sound nothing like anything Queen has sung and NWA sold out a long time ago. It's the natural ecosystem. To imagine or attempt to imagine anything else is simple fool hardy. If you had any rocks knocking around down there I could dismantle your entire affinity for hardcore hip hop and what you believe to be rap that is listen worthy without even bringing up Voldermort, but I won't.
Run DMC was great and did you leave your panties in the dryer? I'm pretty sure those weren't yours. Yes, they weren't. Is yeah in the dictionary?
dab dab dab dab
I don't think it is. I will bet you five dollars. Just five? Yeah, just five. I did my laundry good. You know...
Schrodinger, yeah.
It counts as a cunundrum.
A cunny drum?
A quinnundrum.
Tiny glass blade balanced on the tip of a metal one. A two millimeter, perfect, replica. Skin of palm filleted, wet nurse ready, tweezer brigade shot dead at every turn. It is okay. Fifty twos have been circling. There are two ways to find a needle in a hay stack in life. Okay, three. One of the three, without someone to toss the stack while you watch behind a fifteen hundred lumen spotlight, is to light the entire stack on fire
then dig through the earth behind.
Blow or suck and swallow.
Blow and let it be the gift that keeps on embedding. Suck and swallow. Do not be foolish. At best, for a few weeks swallow funny until I adopt. At worst completely miss and roll it up again somehow.
Sitting Still: five hundred and fifty one decisions per minute.
Balancing: four million three thousand five hundred and six decisions per cubic centimeter.
Blow. Prism slap against glass lip.
Lick.
Yes, tastes like glass. Dab palm.
Yes. Tastes like glass.
Driving: six thousand five hundred and seventy six decisions per square foot.
Cycling: nine hundred and two thousand, five hundred and six decisions for every two and a half feet of road distance covered.
Standing: six hundred and twelve to five hundred and 8, pushing nine, decisions per inch.
Sleeping: zero point zero repeating to nineteen zeros and then a one (7 million billion bit coins per day, approximately 18.2 million twellks [tk]).
Jigging: four hundred and two decisions per square inch.
Dancing:sixty six decisions per cubic foot.
Boxing: ten decisions per cubic foot.
Forty thousand cubic feet per minute at three trillion inch seconds divided by cumulative leaf wax, hold the nomial and trailing for stones, glass is about fourteen thousand decisions per thought, correcting for Coriolis, if the paper weight is going to make it through the window skipping off the lip of the desk, taking subsonic/near sonic flight into consideration. just saying.
Radioshack to fucking Radioshack
because I already tried the grocery store and their sign specifically says "this is where electronics go to die and be parted and be reborn into new electronics" and I know for a fact that cannot happen without the power of tweezers, good day ma'am! And good day to you too sir! And I hope your child catches AIDS if I do not find a tweezer to...
...he used to tell me to be nice every day when I left for school. If I find those tweezers, the cashier is getting stabbed first once I get them out of the package. The assistant goes next, while he's on the phone to the police, not because he was on the phone, because he didn't trust that sometimes people need stabbed. With tweezers. That they sold me. Multiple times. Until they die. Maybe you shouldn't have sold them to me.
A hardware store that doesn't carry the fine arts
is no store for hardware at all.
Keychains and no... ...ooooooooo.... ...shit list.
Can I present you a certificate?
Embossed. With the nut emblem.
It is exactly what it sounds like
and yes:
hot wax dipped
shaven
imprint. Always shaved.
Never know when you have to present documents in a court of law and I will be damned if those wax printed nuts do match my own. I'll feign surprise.
Punching: 33 decisions for each foot second.
Headbutting: 1 decision per foot second.
Wrecking: three million three hundred and thirty decisions for each foot second.
Hugging: twelve decisions per pound inch squared.
Panting: sixty two cubic feet per minute.
The lighting is terrible. Simply terrible. How does anyone work like this? Kidding. Brilliant.
Blow the blood away. Stop licking. For heaven's sake, stop licking. Cut. Cut. Cut! Remember that song about no time for caution? Well, yes. It does sound nothing like anything Queen has sung and NWA sold out a long time ago. It's the natural ecosystem. To imagine or attempt to imagine anything else is simple fool hardy. If you had any rocks knocking around down there I could dismantle your entire affinity for hardcore hip hop and what you believe to be rap that is listen worthy without even bringing up Voldermort, but I won't.
Run DMC was great and did you leave your panties in the dryer? I'm pretty sure those weren't yours. Yes, they weren't. Is yeah in the dictionary?
dab dab dab dab
I don't think it is. I will bet you five dollars. Just five? Yeah, just five. I did my laundry good. You know...
Schrodinger, yeah.
It counts as a cunundrum.
A cunny drum?
A quinnundrum.
Tiny glass blade balanced on the tip of a metal one. A two millimeter, perfect, replica. Skin of palm filleted, wet nurse ready, tweezer brigade shot dead at every turn. It is okay. Fifty twos have been circling. There are two ways to find a needle in a hay stack in life. Okay, three. One of the three, without someone to toss the stack while you watch behind a fifteen hundred lumen spotlight, is to light the entire stack on fire
then dig through the earth behind.
Blow or suck and swallow.
Blow and let it be the gift that keeps on embedding. Suck and swallow. Do not be foolish. At best, for a few weeks swallow funny until I adopt. At worst completely miss and roll it up again somehow.
Sitting Still: five hundred and fifty one decisions per minute.
Balancing: four million three thousand five hundred and six decisions per cubic centimeter.
Blow. Prism slap against glass lip.
Lick.
Yes, tastes like glass. Dab palm.
Yes. Tastes like glass.
Understanding Three Point Perspective
Who would catch you
if you lost every piece
beneath your ramparts
is not the right question.
Who could catch you
if you lost every piece
locked together, felled,
is the right question.
Despise the impossible.
Place anger efficiently.
Spit at vision.
Vision is imagination
with enough spice to try
what falls to possibility,
the impossible walking it's shadow,
but "hey" we're happy to be here, all the same.
It is what it is.
Swallow a balled up sock.
We're happy to be here, all the same.
Walking it's shadow in the wake of everything possible.
Why didn't you catch me?
You could have. Were I you.
Were I you I would have, except I am and I could not.
Why don't you understand that?
I would have tied your shoes for you everyday
for three decades before I asked if it bothered you.
I could have. I could have.
Now I do. I tie my own shoes for two and make myself blush
each morning before skipping over the threshold,
a glance shot through the mailbox.
I would if I could.
Should anything
happen to you,
I could wait.
If I could.
Power. Force. Control.
Option. Would? Yes, still.
How fun to be the same.
if you lost every piece
beneath your ramparts
is not the right question.
Who could catch you
if you lost every piece
locked together, felled,
is the right question.
Despise the impossible.
Place anger efficiently.
Spit at vision.
Vision is imagination
with enough spice to try
what falls to possibility,
the impossible walking it's shadow,
but "hey" we're happy to be here, all the same.
It is what it is.
Swallow a balled up sock.
We're happy to be here, all the same.
Walking it's shadow in the wake of everything possible.
Why didn't you catch me?
You could have. Were I you.
Were I you I would have, except I am and I could not.
Why don't you understand that?
I would have tied your shoes for you everyday
for three decades before I asked if it bothered you.
I could have. I could have.
Now I do. I tie my own shoes for two and make myself blush
each morning before skipping over the threshold,
a glance shot through the mailbox.
I would if I could.
Should anything
happen to you,
I could wait.
If I could.
Power. Force. Control.
Option. Would? Yes, still.
How fun to be the same.
Hiding Schizophrenia
A never polished rivet
on a slip joint of the only bridge to mainland.
Each trip across
rattle.
A last rivet,
polished, painted; rot surfaced again
before dusk.
Everyone below decks!
Everyone below decks! the call repeats.
Hatches slam, crew scramble.
Sea rise. Enemy territory. We are not going back
for any reason!
Clear locks!
Clear locks! the call repeats
until each door is checked.
Senses dull. Antenna rise.
Red phone. And only the red phone.
Screens and arrays light.
Switches become live.
Practice and perfect.
Maps overlay,
gauges pin to their maximums, settle.
Every soul inside
breathing their prayer,
wheels rolling across the interlocking teeth
held by a cylinder of iron
at two miles per hour.
Have the engineers been out today?
Have they returned after the noon rush?
Why don't they weld it?
How long has it been?
Wonder it hasn't, right?
Below decks. Below decks.
I will get you through this.
Cruisers and bombers and mines and runabouts above.
Windblown sea below.
A rivet strains and fires a thunderous crack & holds.
on a slip joint of the only bridge to mainland.
Each trip across
rattle.
A last rivet,
polished, painted; rot surfaced again
before dusk.
Everyone below decks!
Everyone below decks! the call repeats.
Hatches slam, crew scramble.
Sea rise. Enemy territory. We are not going back
for any reason!
Clear locks!
Clear locks! the call repeats
until each door is checked.
Senses dull. Antenna rise.
Red phone. And only the red phone.
Screens and arrays light.
Switches become live.
Practice and perfect.
Maps overlay,
gauges pin to their maximums, settle.
Every soul inside
breathing their prayer,
wheels rolling across the interlocking teeth
held by a cylinder of iron
at two miles per hour.
Have the engineers been out today?
Have they returned after the noon rush?
Why don't they weld it?
How long has it been?
Wonder it hasn't, right?
Below decks. Below decks.
I will get you through this.
Cruisers and bombers and mines and runabouts above.
Windblown sea below.
A rivet strains and fires a thunderous crack & holds.
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