That’s the Way God Likes It

FLYING THE GREEN-TEA CAPSULE INTO CITY OF NIGHT BY DRIVING
(KC & the Sunshine Band of moonlight/streetlight/headlight)
ERRORLESS LEARNING / BRAIN OF HEAVEN / THAT’S THE WAY
Delayed response: vision by precognition, alert to imminent renewal deja vu
SUPREMACY OF ORDER / SACRAMENTAL HEALTH / AUTHOR BEHIND THE SKY
rhythm in flow of angelic code X musical mode required no deciphering
PLANET OF PERPETUAL BECOMING / LOGOS>CHAOS / ETERNAL RECURRENCE OF MUSIC
heightened perception: continual surge of lights on horizon
INVISIBLE CONSTELLATIONS DANCING / QUEEN OF THE SOUTH’S SMILE
instruments of the angels = seraphic versions of terrestrial instruments
LIMITLESS DISCOTHEQUE IN SMOOTH SPACE= DETAILED LIGHT SHOW
lost track of thought on a nomadic journey with no destination
WELL OF LIVING WATERS / KEEP IT COMING LOVE / SECRET CHORD BEHIND SONG
slow explosions over seconds, minutes, miles; motion times rhythm= yes
THE LORD MAINTAINS ANONYMITY THROUGH SYNCHRONICITY
random chains of association spiraling toward absolute sovereign transcendence.
OVER THE BRIDGE INTO THE CITY / MUSIC OF THE SPHERES / DECENTRALIZED DISCOTHEQUE
pray to maintain hermeneutic dimension or risk increasing instability
READY NOW: RESTORATION OF ALL THINGS (BUT I HAVE TO STAY IN MY LANE)
just some song from the 70’s, driving into the city . . . it was only disco
GREEN TEA CAPSULE ARRIVES & ENTERS INTERPLANETARY HUB
some song from the 70’s, flying into the city named KC & the Sunshine Band

 

PROMPT #21: write a poem that incorporates wild, surreal images.
Try to play around with writing that doesn’t make formal sense,
but which engages all the senses and involves dream-logic.

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Plebeia Ovulation-Jones takes on America @ Walmart

Hi-fructose drama-nation (AKA Plebeia Ovulation-Jones), clad in a rumpled football shirt and golden sweatpants, rolled her bovine eyes, burped, then plunged into battle in the Walmart parking lot. Overweightia U.S, looking on, gestured rudely while blabbing on her phone. America herself, standing by, talked loudly, swiveling her fat neck around with a menacing gesticulation involving her two-and-a-half-inch poisonous green fake fingernails studded with tiny rhinestones in the shape of well-known designer logos. Witnesses claimed that the altercation started when America could not find her own thong, which was lost between mountains of cellulite-rippled sweaty rolls of flesh. Splendora Obeeze, her BFF, trying to get America away from the fight scene, mooed like a feral heifer, then barked at her ex, who proceeded to taunt her while filming with his I-phone:

Woo ooh-ooh baby Ima get wit chu den do like u cause we rollin, we rollin . . .

Plebeia suddenly snarled at her 3 year-old daughter strapped into a car seat to leave her shit alone and then re-entered the store where she proceeded to sing to herself in the brassiere section until she bumped into her 4th toddler’s baby-daddy who was mumbling into his thick beard RE tha lightweight herb he smoked wif his boy as he checked his text messages for the freestyle lyrics by “L’il Murgatroid”. The entire affair ended badly when Plebeia spilled corn-dog flavored popsicle powder all over America’s thong-retrieval device. WW IV warning apps were triggered. They beeped, were ignored, failed and then were deleted. No one shouted World Staaar—u see dat? Oh shiiiittt !!
Plebeia O-J was oblivious, in any case, and strode boldly into the Walmart pharmacy section as the predatory drones prophesied in Revelation were released from the bottomless pit by Abaddon, Lord of Destruction. Fabulously overweight as well, I was, nonetheless, underwhelmed by the thong itself, when it was finally retrieved from the depths of America’s rumpled sweatpants, on the buttocks of which was emblazoned the final terrible message: PINK UNIVERSITY: BITE ME.

 

 

PROMPT 20: write a poem that “talks.”
While it isn’t a monologue, it’s largely based in spoken language,
interspersed with the speaker/narrator’s own responses and thoughts.
Try to write a poem grounded in language as it is spoken –
not necessarily the grand, dramatic speech of a monologue or play,
but the messy, fractured, slangy way people speak in real life.
You might incorporate overheard speech
or a turn of phrase you heard once that stood out to you –

P-Orridge 9 Days Old

A brainteasing cryptic digression evoking foul Genesis:
how insane just knowing Lord Megson, Neil (OrridgeP),
queer rebel satanist, turned unbecoming vapid woman:
xenolith = yesteryears zenith.

Prompt 19: write a very strict abecedarian poem, in which there are twenty-six words in alphabetical order, or you could write one in which each line begins with a word that follows the order of the alphabet.