perm filename SORT[1,LMM] blob
sn#056022 filedate 1973-07-31 generic text, type C, neo UTF8
COMMENT ā VALID 00037 PAGES
C REC PAGE DESCRIPTION
C00001 00001
C00005 00002 As ever remote, no love lost
C00006 00003 yummy tummy
C00007 00004 (1) Pardon me miss, may I hump you?
C00008 00005 What can I do with you
C00009 00006 Raspy skinny bitch-- broken.
C00010 00007 Confusion --
C00011 00008 Bright ecstatic moments,
C00012 00009 waiting for little chickie,
C00013 00010 comfort-
C00014 00011 Here and now, like the great here and after,
C00015 00012 Fragmented words. Sequence of nouns, no verbs.
C00016 00013 Where are my almonds!! Goddam stewardess didn't bring me
C00017 00014 I don't.
C00018 00015 Sun --- Aquarius
C00019 00016 Grief and sadness
C00020 00017 Time for toads
C00021 00018 Methylene terpredation
C00022 00019 Freedom.
C00023 00020 Re.
C00024 00021 Munich, June 73.
C00025 00022 ASS
C00026 00023 Lolling tongue
C00027 00024 I have learned that
C00028 00025 Dreams.
C00029 00026 Psychiatrist: What do you want?
C00030 00027 Two o'clock. Train at 452.
C00031 00028 Peter: It makes
C00032 00029 I
C00033 00030 It's hot & crowded and steam rises from
C00034 00031 Bloated sleep in the corner.
C00035 00032 I have an enormous obsession with
C00036 00033 Poverty. Here is a robustness
C00037 00034 There. White Cliffs of Dover.
C00038 00035 Feeling, fear.
C00039 00036 Home again. well come home.
C00040 00037 I must do right by them.
C00041 ENDMK
Cā;
As ever remote, no love lost;
today I feel no withdrawal pains.
What kind of love is that, that
dies like that:
Who you are, can I conjure up your face?
rolling down the hill
biting cold
I see nothing but
the pit in my stomach.
yummy tummy
shimmy belly
rubbie slurping
hot wide mouth
------------------
tickle nipple
scritchle humple
fingers treble
thumps my back
------------------
greasy easy
silken motion
swishing bedsheets
long soft stroke
------------------
tumble jumble
dangle limb
rolling swinging
lolling toungue.
------------------
(1) Pardon me miss, may I hump you?
(2) Pardon me miss, may I slurp you?
(3) pardon me miss, may I fuck you?
(4) Pardon me miss, do you wanna dance?
(5) Pardon me miss, pardon me.
What can I do with you
ancient love
Aztec stamp on my soul.
It reeks of mildew
it's that kind of age
that grows slime.
What am I that
relies on loneliness
to torment my soul
Raspy skinny bitch-- broken.
Dry humping in the cold, afraid
to speak.
Bright grief in a jar
brief love, Susan.
I am sick, tired, lonely,
not wanting to be.
Write your lonely heart out
to me; I want to suck
your bittersweet.
Confusion --
whirlwinds of thought
slow liquid crystals in milk-white
swirls
Blue, light blue.
What to make of this
slurry; immersion in laughter,
high thoughts and tails, wagging in
the darkness of our mouths.
Love, you sing my song,
high whine of the wind
thru the trees.
Duodenic rhythms
beating slow time in
background while short
pulses of srieks intersperse
themselves, cutting edge, writing bright
Bright ecstatic moments,
the falling of a leaf, perception
loud, like snow: soft.
Listen to me: "Listen to me, saying
`Listen to me I said listen to me'".
Vector bright, ashynchronous,
wherewithal the toast of love.
Dark hat, pulled tightly,
canasters in plexiglas.
Do you get me?
Does this TURN YOU ON?
Huh?
Make your mouth water brutally,
banging your chops on a
juicy greasy steak?
Methodical me, my creativity.
Punch your pasties, petunia.
Turn to whimsey, giggling
bright, fantastic tenor of
thorny stasis, nose clean,
body bright.
waiting for little chickie,
wanting warm.
What does it buy, this:
holes in my underwear.
Same sad story; told you, tell you;
want you. Kicked, kinks, bites; dreams
of sucking breasts, erotica.
Destroy my dreams, dreamboat;
all shattered ice, melting away.
comfort-
like wherewithal- its easier to sit
like a light floating feeling, the morning
baloon rests lightly within. It must be
the nylon shirt -- I feel cool.
Friendly captain of the skies. Our leader.
I am safe.
Here and now, like the great here and after,
there and before. When and where.
Craftmanship, what of it? Art and
thus excusable? Unnoticed craftmanship?
Secret of ages, like a book never read.
It is Art, I say. Everything is art, in some
way. Only-- there is good and bad. Value
judgements. Bah. Name 5 non-arts:
1)
2)
3)
4)
5)
Would you rather ask questions or answer them.
Fragmented words. Sequence of nouns, no verbs.
Prepositions are excusable. To describe a state,
a feeling, where I am now; the associations flow like
ink.
I must work at this high feeling I have now --
no sleep, te dreems crowd into the day. I am looking
forward to holding you.
Where are my almonds!! Goddam stewardess didn't bring me
my fucking almonds and I want them NOW and she isn't bringing
them. What is this world coming to!!??
At least a coke or something.
Boy, am I having fun.
I don't.
no point. Just pretend.
When I let go and feel
that it's ok that I
feel no care, by myselfishness
frustrasted by trying to please.
I've surrounded myself with
expectations to be with you.
I don't want them. I don't
need you; I don't need
your shit, I don't need
your pain; I don't need the
place I put myself with you.
Out.
Sun --- Aquarius
Moon --- Libra
Mercury --- Capricorn
Venus --- Aquarius
Mars --- Pisces
Jupiter --- Capricorn
Saturn --- Virgo
Uranus --- Gemini
Neptune --- Libra
Pluto --- Leo
rising --- Leo
Grief and sadness
I Isolate myself
writing in a corner
sad, so sad.
When will it break
shattering glass
Sad old man, my father
weight of years.
Asshole.
Time for toads
birds in a cage
lovers; wincing memory
Is it like this, Susy
feeling sadness at your
dry old teat. Bony
hands, rumpled beds,
turning, smearing;
Old lady, does she know
my NEED for love --
where is gentleness;
all that is left is pain.
Time to destroy illusions;
finis... time for a journey
back to aloneness.
Methylene terpredation
chunky sticks, sticking to mind,
wherewithal. Here I sit,
thinking here I sit. sat. shat.
And what does it mean? And who cares?
I can't think to do it, to be it
to have any ideas of: WHY
am I so alone.
Freedom.
And alone.
getting stoned.
Uncountable bodies / warm love.
Solitude. Sights. shake up.
freak out.
sleep.
Re.
Repression repressed.
Trouser creases.
How can one who, healthily by comparison,
sickley in mind, full of that enjoyment
and beauty, dimly lit fortune,
subtle symbols.
Why do I turn them away.
Munich, June 73.
When the train leaves
drowning sorrows,
having fun, taking care;
I miss my garden
sweet soft love
sunning
under the tree.
Come with me
to my love nest.
ASS
what have you done to
professional Pride, professional
man, professional child.
Whopla, ho ho, ha ha.
Tenderness caressing stone
it softens not
It is the moment of hypnobased
handiness.
Take my eyes // I am a fool.
Pinch my ass, it deserves it.
yes?
Lolling tongue
this is what it's all
abounding.
I have learned that
I am alone.
Here alone.
No conniseur of aloneness, I.
Old churces, museums;
watchful of Nazism.
Alcohol.
sitting, wandering
It burns, my aloneness.
Beauty, fucks. I always
dream of fucks. Sperm like snot.
I leave behind. The world is not
pretty. I've noticed. Wandering,
wandering. Like a river. The easiest
place.
How can one say, the council of europe.
Dreams.
Dreams of Maja.
Dreams of strange rooms, parrots, sweet
old ladies & nostalgia like acid.
What can they do now with their flowers?
Psychiatrist: What do you want?
Me: What do I want?
There is a pretty red dress there.
I think I'll watch it.
Two o'clock. Train at 452.
How can I make it,
what can I do.
Prostitute, tits not bare
sitting
window
I am sad for you.
Peter: It makes
7 fucks, 1 kiss.
I can list them all.
Judy will ride with me, but will not speak,
afterward.
Tired lady in Washington cafe
Brightens when I say hello;
sadens when I say goodby.
Genise invites me to use her
facilities.
Beautiful lady on train
Kahrlsruhe to Baden Baden
asks if I am lonely.
Wisconson, no beauty. But hope
in her eyes, when I
hope
to
pick
her
up.
And, she drops her pencil
when I say hello.
I'd invite you in,
but I'm tired.
gimme gimme.
I
am a potato.
No matter what,
I remain a potato.
No fancy carrots, you;
esoteric apples,
potato-ness becomes me.
It's hot & crowded and steam rises from
agonized eyebrows. Glances.
I wish I knew those glances.
What pain they say to me.
This is a love letter, pumpkin --
you know, romantic train.
She has blond hair on her legs,
small breasts, firmly encased.
An old ring -- I like to think,
her grandmothers.
Bloated sleep in the corner.
Two nuns sit on the left,
a sleeping housewife on right.
Four old men play cards the
next seat back.
I travel only second class.
I have an enormous obsession with
tits.
Incorrigible tit-starer. Come here,
let me stare at your tits,
a bit.
Many tits I dream of sucking.
Give me a tit and I'll suck it.
Soft, hard, whatever you like.
I'll suck your tits for free.
Poverty. Here is a robustness
of pouvrais -- that one cannot
escape from fear. I am afraid of
those I meet: fucks and fights.
Foreign tempers. I paper myself.
But insulation, escalation.
crap.
There. White Cliffs of Dover.
They're white all right.
In ter na tion al con ver sa tion.
I liked her --- Dane.
No fear of touching
no fear of dancing
no fear of non-beauty
non beautiful as she was.
Crazy. Tickle my feet.
Feeling, fear.
I feel I should feel sad.
Staring back, knowing.
Having been.
No souvenirs, not enough.
No sad sad thoughts, not enough.
No joyous anticipation; only
slightly wary -- I made it,
I did it.
It's like prostitutes -- no joy, only fucks.
No joy in travels, only trains, hotels,
sights; the mechanism is there, but the
spirit... ah, the spirit.
Home again. well come home.
Stinking pits, itching beard,
laughts, joy, sharing; word games on the
plane, I win. Honeybun in white pants
soft drawl, I miss you.
You know, I've been in love before.
I know the tenderess of a night, a kiss, sweet cares.
You know, I know the pain of sharing, rightfull
claming hard assed to me.
You belong to ME.
fuck off, gypsy.
I must do right by them.
Friends who
keep up, post up.
Touch me, keep me warm.
I'll keep you warm.
Deal?