JOYCE "SHE" LITTLE SMELLING
---------------------------
Under the eyes of my plaster casts
the eye, the sperm of this Catalan soil
a general strike had ecstatic eyes
let the world know what its guts smelled like!
The most symbolic of the leg chokes-
most beautiful shopwindow in the world!
Detail meant to be pink to their tips-
all traces of "hole" exalted to high pitch!
I was giddy with gold, with holy office
made me feel qualmish, split, shrinking
mouth short two molars
but Joyce "She" little smelling!
The most symbolic of plaster casts
the eye, the sperm had ecstatic eyes-
the most beautiful bleached with leg chokes
all traces of molars, gold-tips, gold...
BAD BY PROUST "A"
-----------------
Dipped in paint to one of its bristles
they shit in their pants like delirious rock!
He could see the powdered periwig,
an oven for the fifteen-metre bread!
With an egg between her tits and a little spoon-
a pauperish side as big as a whole room
(the room, surrounded by none, and her coming
had the cold eye of kisses and arsehole's sway...)
1940, "angelic" half was
hole half-found at Millet's after-
bad by Proust "A," lest she be
she-meal de Noailles, baseness...
A pauperish soup had the cold believer's chest
(they shit in their kisses, in mineral subject)
An oven for the monk's works, a powdered bust
between Eros and none, faking His voice!
TEETH, D.H., WOMEN AS FUR
-------------------------
A race must find tumor's bosoms
provokes us down to our innermost pocket
must have sent my father to insults, beds
each wearing a very fine work on its head!
Hung with dirty firedamp explosion,
dubbed "solemn wraths," twelve-hundred coalsacks-
a straw stool beside picture "so see,"
marvel's sweats forever smell of oil...
At arm's act, dressed as witch or doll
in putrefaction, forming turn:
"Marquis, forward pelt-brined slicings!"
Teeth, D.H., women, rugs as fur...
Hung with dirty fake flesh, fake blood,
dubbed "fake," fake ebonies, forced sentence-
prokokes us down to our black-tailored suits,
must have sent my father to corsets...
HOW TOM SMITH SELF-SODOMIZED
----------------------------
This fiendish man obeyed with joy
His virtue polished vices
Can never wax old, never perish
In devil-walls, devil-bridges, dikes and mills
He is the mouthpiece of the anxious
Fuck Faust's books and instruments!
With bride-shy smile hushed voice replied:
"How does Tom Smith self-sodomize?"
He is chained to the mouth of Hell
And swore on its bloody joints
His body open at the waist
Reveals knees raw from dark-mouthed truth!
The Nile-mark on his tongue turned sweet
Hail, horrors! Hail infernal sweat!
With bride-shy smile Weepcore replied:
"How does Tom Smith self-sodomize?"
T.S.- where joy forever dwells!
ODOR PARTY AT LABIA PALACE!
---------------------------
Odor party at Labia Palace!
Unafraid of a lack of testicles
and the serpent ring of the sickle
and flame rising from her head!
Eyes swollen shut from peerless fact-
piebald, which minstrel eye attacked!
Through the spray of drunken phallus-
cannabalized at Labia Palace!
I stuck to her like a leech!
(Yet, my love is too much to bear...)
She renounced her faith in the Cross!
(tore the hip pimp out of his shell...)
Eyes swollen from ooze of pitch-
kisses pale through fragrant fit!
Odor party at Labia Palace!
TELL HER "ROSE TEAT"
----------------------
Her lion-colored dress and
the lion skin she wears-
none under the sun clutches her purse!
Her full breasts represent the richness-
and from her mouth a violent curse!
But I am the Omega Point!
Sawed-off with wild delight,
"but shrinking," each mistake a helix,
a pair of panties with electric bulb inside!
But I'm not afraid of glue!
She threw her corsets to the dogs-
go tell her "Rose Teat," carload lots-
my divine kisses dissolve them!
Rigid with my double and my one-
from her mouth a violent pearl...
"Rose Teat"'s poetic declamations
Spat out on your moribund soil...
A HOLOCAUST OFFERED TO SOFT-MOLOCH
----------------------------------
Left-leaning republics force the sled of single, canonical scent
its flowering, galloping eye, sky of its delight
remained faithful to Soft-Moloch, and ogled and consumed
purchased by the virgin's curving, carnal plume
High Heel obtained proud issue from the oozing act
proclaimed as with a trumpet in the mode of blazon'd tract
and Moloch humbled by this immodest paroxym
but yet not furred and feathered by his passive condition
uplifted from her bosom, a dull and mortal shock
she turns Leger's cupola into a barren rook
of false-cord profanation and enfeebled encunting
thus drove brain of lead to black pitch, intermixing
reminding Moloch of the sleep-walker's swells
which lay dead inside the high-heeled fortress' cell...
Rose-mouthed, soap-soaked, scent-cum-sheath revealed
of Soft-Rose, magnetic cures, Venus at my heels!
The limp-rose, beloved, red, of boastful public
suck up the sanguine holocaust offered of Soft-Moloch!
Coitus itself became her modest, temperate tale
my prick stood up against her ass, superlatively hale
the soft-rose humbled by unholy encunting-
six moist months later, High Heel still crowing!
(adapted for the Miss High Heel project from To Live and Shave in L.A.'s
"The Rose the Vehicle of Miss High Heels", a track from their
ever-forthcoming double CD THE WIGMAKER IN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY
WILLIAMSBURG)