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this fiction of mine laboured flux in the skull of mysteries and memories worked by furies to the wheel is dealt a willing thread into...

Sunday, September 17, 2023

once upon a time...in Abissynia









                            Luis (Luigi) Marengo



        Reggimento Cavalleria "Saluzzo"   Abissynia c 35-36



Friday, August 25, 2023

at best an accident, at worst un crime passionnel -it´s what i heard the judge say


i shot carol vaughn on august fifteen year of some goddamned animal 

if you want the morbid details ask a china-man shaman or impostor

it was on my fortune cookie plain as daylight tuesday morning it read 

the hour of course was 6:06:06 she had no chance and i couldn´t miss 

we laid to love each other embraced with no light nor shadow inbetween  

feeling not the fire of darkness suffocate us in one last sigh and faded  

nothing is gonna save me nothing said or done it turned out intentional 

never shall i tell the truth though i was up before the hour by forethought     

i shot carol dead when she turned up to look as she was laying in bed 

she saw me holding her twenty-two carbine in my hands and said -no 

emil don´t do it- i raised the gun took aim and shot her bang in the head 

it was thrust back and away and bounced straight back to its sky dig 

with eyes half shut disparate i tried to close them with my hand 

but they stayed as they were and her body shook violently for a bit 

with gurgling sounds and heavy breathing before returning to silence  

then a thin stream of blood appeared out of her right nostril and ran 

on the side of her face and a trickle of blood runneth out of her ear 

into the bed (one out of her right eye stopped at her cheek midway 

like a crimson tear...farewell) and i can say i have fared well like hell 

the rest can be surmised by facts reports made public news or hearsay 

nothing and never -hell´s gonna miss me gehenna shall turn me to dust 

 


Monday, March 28, 2022

so sorry jadajadajada...(piece o´work in progress)

 


this person was the butt of the joke...the target the darling the laughingstock the goat...Oscar gave her center stage at the most important gala of the film world thanks to her husband´s celebrity status so will smith inmediately starred in a shameful incident attacking the host comedian who was doing the traditional roast and let loose out loud with keep my wife´s name out your fuckin mouth as the signal reached virtually the bundocks of the world putting her name on everyone´s mouth who had just heard what, how say you what, jahdee jadah jaduh what the fu&khhh...    



so far so good...this is within fractions of a second the turning point...it is done the jest, it´s time for laughs and smiles are all around...except the culprit is still processing the humor and is about to do a neck turn stiff towards her husband her eyelids coming down to a slit and up to a roll saying in a masked whisper  do something killgh or so it seemed...



this is what ensued...smith suckered-smack the comedian...and   

this is the apology on instagram sans the crying at the Oscar´s... 





listen to this jada jada shite 
-jada violence in all of its jada forms 
is poisonous and jada jada destructive...

now if you catch my drift this is how it went -mind 
an apology is always an awkward undertaking
kind ´o blah blah blahs and so on and so forth 
bunk and meaningless 
works best accompanied with props and tears...

my jada behavior at last night’s 
jadajadajada academy awards 
was unacceptable and jada inexcusable 
jadajada at my expense is a part of my jada job 
but a jada about jada’s jada jada medical condition 
is too much jadajadajada for me to bear...

so it goes the embarrassing pose apology and all on instagram with the oh so unpleasant i was out of line 

i´m a jadajada work in jadajadajada progress  


 
prop in hand and tears...a formula...did it work...
acting vs non acting...and was it an Oscar performance...(?)


Tuesday, July 31, 2018

i love america # 45

(jackie cogan in a lowlife dive)

there is no abridging the freedom of the press    
it´s in the first amendment                     
among the other liberties it protects -speech 
religion ans its practice petition and assembly- 
it´s all there plainly stated                      
to prevent interference censorship            
meddling from trendy fascists                   
extant communists & assorted arseholes              
all enemies of american democracy i´m telling you 

well yeah this is the we told you so presidency
the dawn of the dead brains madly chasing
after a neurological disaster...
it´s finally happening...moreover
you could always see their toxic nonideals 
there under that pale thin skin 

so there´s a crazy uncle under every roof
we shall know in due time the whole story
the pre and after with all the slimy details
and how the gop just watched the bases turn
to the demagogue as if some banana republic
yes we became ecuador with nukes following
around an orange chimp the don     

due excuses given to the color orange 
all dons and chimps mind you

yeah right but this country is fucked             
i´m telling you...now we have 
a bigoted bully in the white house 
with no convictions outside of narcissim 
and nativism racism and sexism 
his life public and otherwise 
is full of racist slurs and acts...
he is a functional illiterate 
doing the fuhrer by the numbers
a real piece of work


On July 20, A. G. Sulzberger, the Times’ publisher and James Bennet, the editor of the Times’ editorial page, met with Trump at the White House, according to Eileen Murphy, spokeswoman for the Times. Though Trump’s aides requested the meeting be off the record, Trump’s tweet Sunday put the meeting “on the record,” allowing for Sulzberger to respond, said Murphy.

The tweet

Had a very good and interesting meeting at the White House with A.G. Sulzberger, Publisher of the New York Times. Spent much time talking about the vast amounts of Fake News being put out by the media & how that Fake News has morphed into phrase, “Enemy of the People.” Sad!

The response

My main purpose for accepting the meeting was to raise concerns about the president´s deeply troubling anti-press rhetoric.
I told the president directly that I thought that his language was not just divisive but increasingly dangerous.
I told him that although the phrase ´´fake news´´ is untrue and harmful, I am far more concerned about his labeling journalists ´´the enemy of the people.´´  I warned that this inflammatory language is contributing to a rise in threats against journalists and will lead to violence.
I repeatedly stressed that is particularly true abroad, where the president´s rhetoric is being used by some regimes to justify sweeping crackdowns on journalists.  I warned that it was putting lives at risk, that it was undermining the democratic ideals of our nation, and that it was eroding one of our country´s greatest exports: a commitment to free speech and a free press.
Throughout the conversation I emphasized that if President Trump, like previous presidents, was upset with coverage of his administration he was of course free to tell the world.  I made clear repeatedly that I was not asking for him to soften his attacks on The Times if he felt our coverage was unfair.  Instead, I implored him to reconsider his broader attacks on journalism, which I believe are dangerous and harmful to our country.




can´t believe all the shite that´s going down

listen counselor it´s like i said before
i´m living in America
and in America you are on your own
America is not a country it´s just a business
drink up





Tuesday, March 15, 2016

six six six...i got nothing


six six six  
i got nothing _and thinking
there was commotion from the street
murmurings muttered chanting in the air
i raced the window sill triumphant 
at the persiennes i lurched the void 
from the waist intent on truth or dare

it was hell´s bells 
a fantastic venture it was
a procession of tropical proportions
the cathedral bells began ring a ding dong
i saw mother ambling there
under black veils her red hair
and larger than life a statue on a cart
stage blood for the christ in distress
el señor de la patada _the given name
suffers the earthly divine has no concern
yes those were the days my friend
i´d crown myself with thorns regularly
and i always prevailed

it was a long long long time ago
when fear was affixed at the wheel
reason was left out of the deal
was it not father who told us so
he said this is the score fear not 
but fear was at the core
we receded into ideas false
and false ideals were conceived
they were utter nonsense
we did not know the score
we knew fear
it was our source
we had to make some kind of sense
of the unknown _so we made it up

we are all one
feel
keep on gonging
find scores in old records stores
we all have been kangaroo kourted
anything severed from the body
may be saved cryogenically
talking about cocks hands heads?
we shall need an agent that we
may wield otherwordly powers 
still thinking trash 
we beg off release 
this is how i play 
anger over sarcasm rudeness brutality
sound the shofar eat a round challah
in-a-minute is never now
try and juggle all the balls
play on our finiteness
oh such radical a condition…


Monday, June 22, 2015

some songs have no words


some songs have no words
some have no name
jojo crafts walls of them pieces tumult
and clamor scores backdrops for blasts
some girls have no songs
no récipes no instructions
we have to sob tons find charmwords
to spread it on fawn cajole woo them 
in the midnight hour for sure
it´s every teenager burden and call

precisely were you 18
when dawn found you on the stairs
of the fire-escape in back of the house
-waiting on the sunrise you said- then
she held you least you´d fall or worst
and the day turned blindingly sunny 
next she gave herself away helpless
and you were in the snare caught
and hardup to fuck the girl in question
who absently said any ol´song was just
fine and the verse was as good as it gets
the blanks were blown and revealed
meaninglessness...their worth  _zero
and you entered that instant ethos
colored fulfilling the promise of flesh
neon signs at rest now buses parade
and you longed for her at midday
covered with detritus of sex
emotions alone
and awake with a notion of something
amiss amidst thunder outbursts
your brain crashes the walls
rocks hurl into the sun
invaders of the heart fly the breeze
the dub bass reverb resets your head
a factory yard the lane leading to it
the gate you shake your head 2015
times and times with no end await
the solder kit to frame dissonant
refrains clangor roarwaves
for the trashers the sailors the clerks
masons atomizer in hand get an earful
of noise sounds from circuit bending
jojo knows this how to score best


Wednesday, December 3, 2014

OHIO GHASTLY SOIL - Ryan Jewell -C. Spencer Yeh -Wasteland Jazz Unit (2008)









thank you  

Ryan Jewell, C. Spencer Yeh & Wasteland Jazz Unit 

for...