Ideas Are Weapons

Journeys for the Sake of the Trip

11/5
2009

  • Jack, lets just forget about it and have ourselves another coffee, as black as we can.  As black as the nightbird’s shadow.  All these words, these images, these broken metaphors that I don’t fully understand.   That’s all I can see from this purple patio partition.  As I watch the world float by. That taste in my mouth gets smothered when it rains.  And I speak in shattered tongues.  Can’t never get used to your bruises.

10/31
2009

  • where the

    paint was applied like bloodstains on walls.  dripping little specks of hemogoblins i tidied the crime scene. jack the ripper oh whata trip to the fox chris alwyn everyone spooked of chicken pox and washing their hands of the deed. ladyfriend shows up spiced something chile less country more attitude. gyrating jevhoas. i believe in a taste worth savouring.  quickdown vessels. bossman takes it to the level above and we follow. homes tighten their corridors in anticipation of the haunting. like poltergeists we shook shivered shelters until there was nothing but the helter skelter shogun all over the walls.  happy halloween in between the lines the spines shiver as five letter words deliver messages from the dead as my body is but the mind is alive like five juice down hatches underground caches we can all breathe deeply for the first time, sweet ashes.  so many asses like avocadaos peeled in perverts minds. i dont mind that my time was lost. among bass and messy ufc faces.  team building accomplished a flag in the moon.  whether a set or the satellite a bet on the cattle fight. everyone is a cow until they realize it.  and then they’re free. like an echo from techno. all hallows for the hollow.  hell for the followers.  to my one reader your a beautiful breeder doing what the front fox row try to in underwear, lie to, their morticias their wednesdays their lost family values.  a pint splashed rant can’t show who you lie to.  so we all mangle dangled verbs and words that you cry to its all just a symbol of the world - we’ve been lied to.

    but truth carries lofty like birds wings on zombies. abercrombie armies don’t know where their mom’s be.

10/29
2009

  • "It’s astonishing that cats always have two holes cut in their coats in exactly the same place as their eyes."
    - Georg Christoph Lichtenberg
  • “Lots of people know that it was Picasso who designed the famous dove of peace that the communists adopted as the symbol of the anti-war movement in the 1950s and 60s… What most people do not know is that Picasso’s famous dove of peace was actually a pigeon, and that the particular Milanese [white fluffy] pigeon he drew for the communists had been given to him by Matisse” - Waldemar Janusczak

  • “Lots of people know that it was Picasso who designed the famous dove of peace that the communists adopted as the symbol of the anti-war movement in the 1950s and 60s… What most people do not know is that Picasso’s famous dove of peace was actually a pigeon, and that the particular Milanese [white fluffy] pigeon he drew for the communists had been given to him by Matisse” - Waldemar Janusczak

  • Jeff Rense David Dees

  • Autistic Aristry

    The city is an orgy of steel and concrete.  Traffic lights, towers, and trucks.  Downtown dirty with dozens of empty coffee cups.

  • "I saw a sunset in Querétaro that seemed to reflect the colour of a rose in Bengal"
    - Jorge Luis Borges
  • I was born in the future. Kicked out the sidedoor of my placental bachelor pad like a fireman in a burning building.  Infant like a hard-boiled-egg.  Piss & vinegar to my eyebrows.  I throbbed sensory overload like coughed-up-lungs humping a stallion of a subwoofer.  I was all little blue lightning bolts under a swirling sky.  I could nap in a shoebox and my world was a dreamcoat, it pulsed like six billion people in mutual mindbending orgasm.  One universal chime of tantric bliss ……… ears ringing reverberating through the mantle the core shambala and every volcano on earth exploding as six billion people slippery hot muscle mass remember what it was like, to be one.  A year old again for a second - and then it’s back to the monitor.

  • I was born in the future. Kicked out the sidedoor of my placental bachelor pad like a fireman in a burning building.  Infant like a hard-boiled-egg.  Piss & vinegar to my eyebrows.  I throbbed sensory overload like coughed-up-lungs humping a stallion of a subwoofer.  I was all little blue lightning bolts under a swirling sky.  I could nap in a shoebox and my world was a dreamcoat, it pulsed like six billion people in mutual mindbending orgasm.  One universal chime of tantric bliss ……… ears ringing reverberating through the mantle the core shambala and every volcano on earth exploding as six billion people slippery hot muscle mass remember what it was like, to be one.  A year old again for a second - and then it’s back to the monitor.

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