In which Marilyn – finally abandoned by D-Corps, and with only Nembutal to defend herself – has no choice. As Yancey Slide previously advised, she quickly replicates as the attack ships of Zeta Reticuli warp from orbit into her neural subspace.
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then black woo descends into her visceral lips while a background piano does what background piano do. they burn at high temperatures.
".... while a background piano does what background piano do. they burn at high temperatures."
Beautiful! More please.
fruits & flakes & earthquakes.
all my spirals are open.
miss palin crawled over the skin.
she found a way out through a broken nail.
why the black lipstick?
it represents all the crap i've got to eat.
sect flies through midnight doors, call janis on the payphone. she'll puke guts through a regional line.
I'm going round the house compulsively muttering "all my spirals are open," like some kind of mantra. There's something really powerful about that line; it's healing.
"She found her way out through a broken nail" is nothing to sneeze at either. Or puking guts through regional lines. Evocative images.
Keep it up mehacn, gutzc, or whoever you are. I, for one, can use some lifting out of the mundane.
sparkdly sparkle bloom flower moment in space - said the red nosed ostrich to the baby giant.
who's that in your cave? - asked the gentle lion.
uhh, no one... - replied the junk loaded old man sitting in his hospital robe in mid-december new york. somewhere around 1935 to be correct.
typo lypo, moment in space
again? cry your flowers out or you'll pay
high priced junk food in safe heaven done
my scars bleed old fish juice
what a scam in a pan ramadam
-2 for the price of 1
marilyn spleen darling
chimps and tones and motor tones
roller bones foams, explains holmes.
all your candlelight will keep the pad warm
mary wollstonecraft schnoz appeal
james juice ripping my foes toes
"ain't nuthin' like a sabbathical motherfucker"
squeequed the frog to tod mod
here spill the water at my feet
ye lion cage rage botanical breakfast street.
a crowd of drums staring at my eyes.
bedside radio humming nembutal horn section in heaven.
shift the makeover spillover dressed like wine
pills ain't thrills they're just strange times
"ain't nothing like a whore d'oeuvre"
blocked channel line. ring the president tonight.
a steam bath of black joy and boredom. under emporium of loud cameras
arthur macarthur willie james stew guitar.
who cares for the evening rot
panic on the streets mutters loud scene scan
the queen closed the eyelid
traffic stuck. loud spinal drive.
believed to be heard at 9 am
in a lonely rundown motorcade.
Marilyn curled her lip and deftly removed the cherry from her scotch. She bit it in two with perfect teeth. "Oh Mr Igrxl, that wasn't how it was at all. You know as well as I do the motorcade has never been lonely."
"And we all burn at high temperatures."
13 intervention!
But some burn higher than others.
Mick, I thought you were cured... try intoning "all my spirals are open" for a couple of days. That'll do it.
thanks Kass!
Actually that's a slight rip off from the beat poem/exquisite corpse "Pull my Daisy."
"Pull my daisy, tip my cup, all my thoughts are open."
Yeah, but spirals makes it much more evocative, can go further, go anywhere that way. Really grabbed me.
As to the other... scratch that. The last thing we need is a "cured" Mick.
Isn't it "... all my doors are open"? That's better than thoughts but I still maintain, poetically, spirals gives one even more room to take off.
spiral away then.
Kass,
http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/ap080824.html
This one is for you.
Great choice, Valerie
Kass, here are a couple more from the same website (a personal favourite):
http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/ap080622.html
http://antwrp.gsfc.nasa.gov/apod/ap080113.html
A general APOD site search on 'spiral' will reveal many more (and probably better)
Valerie, that's incredible. Took my breath away.
Thank you both!
There must be some visceral way we relate to and recognize the cosmos, even if only subconsciously. First the poem and now to that magical image. Pulls you in. Feels so familiar in some way. So appealing. Makes me want to go right to its center and spiral round and round with it to eternity.
Must be some kind of microcosm/macrocosm thing... that the cosmos is within us?
indeedly-do, kass.
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