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cran : apple : steve : romanko

I don’t want to be part of the E True Hollywood Story

I don’t want to be part of the E True Hollywood Story


She swings around

Chewing the innards of liberal children everywhere.

It is torment

How much money you got?

You into the market yet?

Why haven’t you invested?

Sick of all the hoopla

Coordinates put us smack dab in the middle of the machine

So this journey starts in…

I’m like a cow ,

Hooing my way in line

To shell out money for this hemingway notebook


Mechanical Tribute to disposable heroes

1) A checkmark pocked or ticked

in a list on the deck

like a twisted mad game

of celebrity crosswards

we need to listen to naked freedoms

and the prayers of the atheists below.


2) we’re not spending enough

donkey donkey, the monkey speaks

“everything’s fine”; he says.

It’s hard work, or course it is

But we’ve never backed off a challenege

Little does the monkey remember.


3) Whom do you have to tip?

10 20 30 40 50 60 70 80 90 100 percent

all the tips to monocle boy

bespeckaled Strangelove

It’s a nightmare n the sand.


4) my mission accomplished

wishful apogee that encapsulates the boundry

of the mirrored fickle public.

Action figure on the deck, criminally

Bound in paperback 20 months ago



5) We are Ravaged

Flesh torn, burned and cauterized.

Bobby Wheatfield, Jimmy Nascar, Pedro Republica, and Antwain Negro all blowed up.

Because, because again

Remind me who the poor are fighting in this war.


6) I see drapery folded


aluminium cans for the folks back home

disposable heroes get a rubber stamped message to mom

we regret to inform you…signed, the monkey, the gargoyle, bespeckaled strangelove.


7) The gargoyle smirks

It is an evil thing, upswept with coal colored eyes

And withered heart to match

Thumping thumping, fingers tapping


He waits for his turn at the mill

To grind to seeth

It appeases his empty.


The Queer City Bounces

The Queer City Bounces


To the thoughtless dance beat of…

How do you say it…television

The daily dangerous stockpiles

Ripe with tungsten fused apparition

(we’ve , become , mild)

she’s full of angst

she’s ful of serendipity

she’s full of fetal distress

she’s full of troubled late Summers

and whiskey bar

nightangale flyovers

the train, the train

is going to the mission


I can barely keep my head

from bein snapped doff

Like a wizard of palindromes

back -> forth

the tennis match of our lives


How quick is that an idea?

smirky through the fog.

The joy of personal combat the smart bombs decadance

that cres out for

something more

it’s a matter of crosssections



bright Blinding lights

and the biggest nothing in


It shimmys, records, mambos

at 3am.

It’s only your dignity, suck it.

Dashing through the snow

everything’s on sale

cept your dignity…wait

that is too

It’s only your dignity, suck it

Do these go? cuz I need 5 pairs for work

that way I don’t wear them out.

How bout this belt?

I love the selection this is a bit snug and with the holidays…

but I love cable knit

its back in yo uknow its only $189.00


Yellow socks, red jacket

feeding on the frenzy

like raptors to a kill

gap is your god

this is your god

doubl;e quarter pounders are your god

(but don’t they engineer them to be soooo tasty?)

entropy has us all singing high praises and hosannahs

to cowl neck sweaters


and soggy burrito like .99 cent food items

It’s only your dignity, suck it.

Free gift wrapping with that

And ; WOW! It’s here it’s here!

The masses searching for truth

In huddled hutches of post-urbia.

The republic is calling

Swarming and threadbearing the chaffed spots in my trousers

Large heads, Big heads, encephalatic heads;

Urging us to spend to buy to make ourselves happy

With stuff


It’s only your dignity, suck it.

It’s only the media, suck it.

It’s only the advertising, suck it.

It’s only the empty calories, suck it.

It’s only the porn of money, suck it.

It’s only your belief in the cards, suck it.

It’s only blind obedience, suck it.

It’s only 3 easy payments, suck it.

It’s only the box set, suck it.

It’s only the extra large number 3, suck it.

It’s only an implant, suck it.


It’s only a small landfill, suck it.

It’s only a false sense of national security, suck it.

It’s only a government contract, suck it.

It’s only a right to say whatever you want,, suck it.

It is only your dignity.


Woe is the Devil and Dick Clark

New years Rockin eve, motherfuckin hey!

Dick’s a limp fucker but that’s cool

It ‘s pretenders amazing and destructive greetings for the new case of 79-80

Dick’s having trouble with the cue cards he’s reading

Dance with the devil his time tick tick ticks

We all knew it would happen bout this round to dick.

He oozed square cool.

His stage the largest and blondie and Johnny (refusing to lip synce the lyrics)

Over his shoulder, knew Richard Wagstaff Clark, loomed the leathery caped shadow of

his true master.

For a bit, the hits we pro

Claimed by the spirit and dick fell out of favor with the gods of faint platters

But Britney and Ashley

(lip syncing so badly)

pushed the grinding , the bashing, back to the alley.

Ozzy comes back

Britney has hits

Jessica has Hits

Blah blah has hits

All point toward Armageddon

And dick, about to reclaim hi post


As supreme interloper; loses.

Satan laughing spreads her legs.

Woe is the devil and Dick Clark

Ha ha, Dick Clark

Ka sey ka sam laughs in that shaggy, robin voice the pedals away

Leaving bits of the tops 40 behind..


I, Lucifer

To think, friend sinneris the greatest thumbed action of the morning

The lightbringr, crisp, like the fog off the beach

runs the blood, courses through the ears, the temples

he heart, the mind, the sutra...blah blah blah.

I take my sheep into the land of nod

writhing against decrees and pundits

The land beyond, beatufies and reflects your realm; yet it availd itself to only obedience

All the life is the same

All the futures the same

All the heavens and hells and spasmodic horsehead nightmares.

You made, created, sustained me and you asked for blindness in return

to never question

to lay before you and call you

to kneel and allow you to caress my cheek

creation is aid to free faith and ferment individuality

why did Job suffer so?

you laughed at them

clay monkeys called by your court

There are three temptations:

-worship-doubt in self-spiritual cannibalism

to think, friend sinner, is the unforgiveable

seraphs aloud: realms of life; negative rebirths and eating spoiled pears.

you descend under the weight of its own evil and wing-ed you fly

icarus angry and tribunal

They will never give me peace and I will question forever.

I do not wish to be condemned to the hell of blake

An eternity of lost souls

whos greatest sins cannot be recollected

the lives they had lacked

we were devoid of art , of meaning; of lasting substance

If I had a crime to let off my physche it would be indulgence

Frantic cream churning edeweiss smelling skirt chasing

it is less of a sin I perceive than homily writing

Cardiff Cardiff by the sea; sandy cliffs and simple lies. condemn me to a certain kind of


I Cast You Out!

rampant destruction to purge your sins of imperfection

quibbling on the meaning of worship charity chastitity and the bad name comes back to


Oh! how we circle like ants on a sugar bowl we know you're not there yet

it makes nigh a difference

if you want our bread or not


paris hilton is a fithy rich whore

paris hilton is a fithy rich whore

no really she is...and

I'm not talkin bout

those dirty dirty tapes of her ex boyfriend.

There's a consequence.

the filth queen fame. cant wash your hands of the semen, the blood, the fingerprints

she sell the papers

the diamond dazzlin lights

spark the night with limos and fashion

tributes on the Nile and filamental trash heaps; vile

paris, we'll always have ya

cuz Kato came callin' in his twelve minute window

ashley crashley paradox of a dopeamine a dope-a-mine a dope a hers


true prices then thru vices

lot sings a redemtion song over vegas

paris, she's in my imagination

crazy nights and kiss make up dandies in suits runnin' the I.V. and town halls of amerika

she's done em all...down and filthy

paris, the city of angels

paris, the city of trumpets

paris, spread eagle beckoning MORE


such a simple chain around your ever lovin neck

thin broad travelin down your runway

Bobby, she's the shit, cuz she owns this place

so i aint gonna laugh_no i aint gonna hurt her

its paris

creamy hotel living girl

twirled crimped and horde her world view

until the unabashed freakishness of fame defaults

and paris; burns.


For Hunter

Buck Henry - Jasper Cray

the drive down yonder to escape the night in giant tires

she-rats chompin on the twirled hair of Rasputin

I've seen the old monk, ummm

and his tricks don't tantalize me anymore.

That crazy gonzo journalist

wrote all this and I gotta tell ya, that I'd have put the gun to my head and taken the easy

way out too.

Hip replacement leg replacement freedom displacement and hunter was so goddamn

fucking correct

(now using that kind of language _makes one look a little lacking in the language)

click. stare. nothing.

madmen who live in a bad place.

It covered. It worked. It was if he had taken what jack did turned it, tweaked it,

shot it up with cocktails

that would destroy a goddamn black rhinocerous

and not much rhymes with rhinocerous

maybe vociferous

but I think thats a synonym or metaphor

or whatever the fuck its called when two words sound alike and collide

two words collides

words collide




until its incorporated into another

when worlds collide

click. stare. rock-n-roll take that in your medatative pipe

and inhale through your lined nether regions

but dont blow it until you've fully absorbed the magnesium

its good for you ya know.

I take my tablespoon of vasiline every day

"Rectally"?; "No sir, internally."

lubes up the joints and keeps my ligmatisms remembering where they belong.

Back in the corners, with the demons.

Pass the natural tablets of rendevous medicine

cuz that's what helps beat em down!

It's a lot like that damn WHACK A MOLE game.

They keep popping up after a drink.

after a zip zip puff; motherfucker.

”There are those words again." "Can't you just say it without all of that filthy dirty potty


like I said, motherfucker.

Moles poppin up , demon moles

hurting my chances of being a normal person.


And yet when I come back to Square one (1)_I see it moving someplace else.

someplace on the next page.

Thats all this could be. Filler . Flicker.

The damn lint of the sun gets in my crosshairs.

Cant see the rabbit. mole.

mole rabbit.

back to those little bastards again.

I can feel em tunneling through my brain making thier little runs and burrows

cutting through my pre optic feta carpal synapse.

That would be synapse number 6 1 9 4 8 5 A 1 6 9 – B

They're all assigned numbers.

Not randomly, but in an order.

Damn rodents. Any sane man would want to blow off the top of his skull to let them

whack-a-mole demons out.

click. stare. bliss.


Revoloution, yeah right.

What say you and me get militant, baby?

Real che guavara

Lets choke the bikes

Run into the hills

For the revoloution

For the revoloution

For the revoloution

Seems like it’s movin; grooving

Rolling at the speed of eveloution

Ha ha hah hah hah ha ha

And it’s a damn sphere of shame

That puts me into the

Frame of blind

You and you and you and you

…and me too

we can all shake loose the shingles …

come on over…do the twist


Let’s do it right now!

Right now!

You; take over the radio station…electronic garbled machinations

You; take a contingent and grab all the state buildings


It shouldn’t hurt; that bad

Arny’s old and short and I’m told…not what he used to be.

Maria knows

And you; you my dear

You can cordon off all the flower children.

Rack em’ pack em’ stack em’

And drive em off to camp…

I aint talking bout anarchy or reconstruction

Or peace.

I’ve had my fill


Reveloution!!! Whoo!!

It’s all in here

Take away the gard;

The dress fatigues

The boots

The olive drab trappings

of our better life in the woods

and all you have;

is one naked bastard

You can fill the void with silence

you can fill the void with laughter

you can fill the void with obsessive twitching


but I don’t want that

no no that at all

cuz there’s a girl in the corner

with star spangled hair

and hip clothes

and unbelieveable thong underwear

and her daddy’s corvette to boot

but; I; don’t; want; that!

I want canned food

dry goods and assault rifles

filled with the ammunition of words

but she cant understand me

she don’t know

can she see the problems about


the problems (666) reveloution

seems a little too ripe

2 things again in mutation

the man

the dancer

the skywriter

the grenadier

the queen of the holy desert


secreting secret gardens of stoe

come back from the desert babies…

the sheen of a lifetime

in a lifetime of chanceries

and 2nd inauguaral bullypulpits


zero hour

we’ve shook our fists

at mommies and daddies

and the gargoyles in marble idol temples

and the business elite

before the age we had books

we had paper and power

but now our lives are crammed lives

and their weapons

happen to be…say

liters of coke and a smile

coke and zieg heil

choke all the bastards; vile

they are

we’ll still get em with words

we’ll nail em hard

they’ll be the first


against the wall

They don’t get it do they

they have words too…

they spew words

like; freedom





I’ve got a baseline movin in my head

I’ve got a voice but I don’t speak

too many louts roaming about

too many punks on the street

crawling crawling

patches worn thin on






Fuck you

Nevermind says I;

Too damn big to take in the whole drama

the complete shebang…

the neo conservative, black wearin, flip flop toten, moby listening, bongo strumming,

WMD lookin, Michael moore lovin, demorepublicrat fascist, nazi fuckin, cock ring

poppin, music singin, free love bringin, jesus shoving, goddess lovin, gay , straight, bi,

black, yellow, white. fat. horny laced veiled high middle low class, nascar fucker-baby

makin trailer hitchin book reading syndicate

Fuck you

fuck you

fuck you

yeah. fuck you too.


Colossus, the forbin project

we tripped over ourselves

nasty ripcord lovers

cross the miles exchanging hellos.

she was hot, alannah hot

with miles of leg

like the turnpike stretched out on a Saturday morning

grinding to New york, Sunny long island iced teas and the stale smell of cigarettes

that marble smoke on the drop ceilings

curtailing the obvious advances and disadvantages

Over the line was panting, moaning

troubling this noise of the charcoal evening

flitting ashen embers into her hair.

Her voice was that of gravel

the thoughts nirvana as they passed from her brain to her mouth

to her figured and florentine hips

to her fingers

to her nape

to her receiver

to her tight back

and across the waves

shuddering an infinite bit stream of chemical denial

that empty place we had filled with a harsh demanding master


he leveled the playing field

clipped the snapshot vigorously and opened her up on us

she screamed down the freeway for more

zeros and ones spilling over the teak floor

all over the sabertooth rug

they were an archetype

manuvering the intentions and undead feelings into the void

i am alive.

Homo Sapian Zombiticus Mi Amore

I want Zombies

naked, art chick, dancing, lesbian zombies

screaming EAT ME!!!


as they blood soak my new jeans

and fashion t shirts

of their latest victim;

I could scour for grub

brain and a peeber;

brain and a pain and a soapbox of mindless gravy.

mmmm mmm good.

with sliders and backbeats

on the side

We’re all zombies.

Flaxen hair and pointless eyes

echoing fate novelties beyond the grave.

Like cheap , plastic hello kitty eraserheads

the dance, they merge

on the beach

they rot of the evening

mixing with the ocean mist;

a fist; an arm

not severed so cleanly

come come along with me

tight brown bodies of the enemy

I like it, it’s her’s

the naked and the damned…


It’s trivial the walking dead are around

Slouching and riding the subway

picking the brains of so called friends…

for the food of the Gods or God (depending on what coffee shop you visit)


I quit the clergy cuz they aint dead like me.

I cant fly a plane, but I’m a damn good dancer

and the macabre melodies

in my skull

can fulfill a deadman’s fantasy

its no fun waiting by the phone

for the dead to call.

I saw one dial once, but all it did was punch 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3 3

ad infinitum…like it was stuck

zombies…they aint comin

and besides

the vampires already got to me.