Archive for November, 2014

The Melancholy Of Anatomy: Kiss

There is nothing I know, worth saying.

Lest I say it silently. Silkily.

Murmuring upon the sweetness of your lips.

Suspended in silence.

Into the mystery of your mouth.

The Melancholy Of Anatomy: Real IV

There was a cat across the street in a cage and he was poor and it was within my power to make him less poor.

So I exercised jcp smilethat power.

I named him Porius. Because that is his name.

He then vanished here for nearly a day. All of me in agony, that I had somehow let him slip away.

This night he is all and everywhere. Prancing. Exuberant.

He has, now, a life.

And, thus, so do I.

The Melancholy Of Anatomy: Real III

A Negro is in the White House.

All and every impulse of this nation, arcs towards him havingsnow-nik-looks no business being there.

The Negro is a “Democrat.”

Non-Negro “Democrats,” running for office in 2014, they vowed that—fuck! shit!—they had never really even heard of The Negro.

Several times, these non-Negro Democrats, while running for office, they refused, yea verily, even unto three times, like Peter denying The Christ, to say they had even voted for The Negro.

The non-Negro “Democrats,” running for office in 2014, they had no vision.

They simply positioned themselves as people who had poked out only one and a half of their eyes. Rather than both their eyes. As had the “Republicans.”

The non-Negro “Democrats,” they swore they had never heard of The Negro; or, if they had, they knew him, but loved him not.

Rather, than, as the Republicans, ceaselessly calling—like baying hounds, pausing in their pursuing exuberance only to loudly and lustily lick their own genitals—for The Negro’s tarring, feathering, castration, execution, public burning, and interment, beneath the bones of Robert E. Lee.

In the days and weeks before the 2014 election, the Republicans, they ceaselessly beat the drum, the drum that ebola-ridden eye-bleeding Negroes projectile-vomiting out of Africa were insidiously intentionally ululating in child-immigration waves over the border from Mexico to smear their feces into the precious bodily fluids of paleface Americans so as to better run utterly wild as cannabis-crazed mountainous Michael Brown gun-grabbing thugs to ISIL lop off the heads of all the goddam white people.

The non-Negro “Democrats”: to this, they said nothing.

They were beaten like a gong, last night, the non-Negro “Democrats.” From sea to shining sea.

Good.

Because, still, non-Negro “Democrats”:

you
don’t
know
what
it’s like

The Melancholy Of Anatomy: Vote III

Oh my. Democrats are having a Sad.


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