Sunday, May 30, 2010

The Number 9

I started writing this after my brother Trayce gave me the mission to use terms I learned in the Astrology class I was continually complaining about and to generate a poem r somethin out of it. So I began and in the middle of doing so, I had an Aneurysm . I blacked out for a good 30 minutes went to the ER and got the wheels movin again. Went home and finished the poem. Here it is in it's entirety, the poem that tried to kill me. (note: one way to read this is to go down to the bottom and click play on the video then scroll back up and read)

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The Number 9 or what it takes to kill a Star
Charles Alcock developed Doucheology
based on his astronothing theory,
Black hole...straight ahead!
Supernova weasel turd particles
gas omit radio waves. Space travel?
Review the death of stars. Lower-main sequence
stars, Red Dwarfs, Sunlike stars, Planetary nebulae,
White Binary stars, recycled stellar evolution, Accretion Disks,
Nova Explosions.
The End of Earth, The iron core, The Great Super nova of 1987.
Life on Earth. More peculiar.
The orbit of materials. The Moon. The 12 visible planets.
The density of Galileo. The law of inertia- avoid it.
The value of data is the table below.
Individual goal: Eliminate bias. Estimate the actual value.
Modern. Bach. The Fugue. The Fugees.
Allanis Morrisette. Limp Bizkit. Insane Clown Posse.
Brady. Invertible counterpoint. How to compose
a sequence...Standardize. Technique called Fusion.
The particle is looped. Each weighing done in the same room,
by the same group of people, the same technique.
Counter-clockwise cellestial sequence. System reaches system.
The spectra of stars are produced...no longer gravitationally bound.
This relationship of

centers

continues to form. But, prepare for cadence.
When all the nuclear fuel in a star is used up, gravity will win over pressure and the star will die. Die in a gigantic explosion.

Mozart to Haydn. Error tends to be distributed.
Most of our data is a change of scale.
Compare scores...who did better? For what?
To the need in what score?
Creation continues.
rotating gitches associated with Changes.

Understanding the I-Ching.
Matter fows, time fucks up,
and it gets hot as shit.
Et toi? Je danse.

electrons raped

Je chante. Je chanterais.
Op.33, it's 1780, Haydn's gettin pretty popular.
London, pretty big deal.
Meter agreed.
The weights and measures whose time technicians listen
again and graph.
List genre, concepts, and changes.
Charecteristic of movement.
More brass! More percussion! significant!
Less massive stars will die in a less dramatic event.
Only person with less literature written about his life than Jesus...
Wagner...
then, there was Bellini. a Bookstore. Classroom. Parking lot. Movie Theater. Verdi. Rossini. Puchinni, Madame Butterfly. Merci beaucoup !Berlioz.
Boulez. Mendelssohn.
Bo Bo.
Me.
You.
The roles we play,
open time up to a crazy, lazy feeling.
Girl turned her hands, revealed palms.
I take back my hips.
You get your swishin hard feet. Taco Bell, more masculine.
Go! Combine! Spin rapidly! See pulses! Visible light?
Bullshit! Beaucoup de temps...Sortiez! Dansiez! Mes amis,
emit visible pulses, persist longer.
The event horizon, a black hole singularity.
Et ensuite, Prepare measurement, Bias.
Pushing them in the same direction. Hair on the scale.
Stems repeat. we know change chance is left.
Brightness does not depend on temperature.
Becomes no limit.
White. The envelope tells white Chinese astronomers through theory.
A dwarf produced.
Radiation can occur when paradox is magnetic.
Material no longer gravitationally bound.
As material leaves, fall into, form around
nothing.
Fusion around every sequence, life.
Stars do suspect their own death.
Stellar giants inside, our evidence. A white dwarf,
our smaller size.
Cumulative form.
Stockhausen. Reich. Crumb. Seeger. Percussion juxtaposed pointillism.
Start each identity.
Shostakovich. Copland. More broad audience.
Gillespie. Parker. Contra fact. Barber. Babar.
freedom of structure, allusions to Cage,
random like Napolean Dynamite, the FIRST time.
Prokofiev played alot like Rachmaninoff.
Root position harmonies.
Riley. Post-awesome. Blues "lick" gets melded into a stew.
Polyrhythmic layering evokes Krenek.
Wiell. Viel. Veal. Tradition. Past. Useful.
Hindemith gets out of Germany before it's too late.
Emphatically post tonal. Chords get banned during Nazi Regime.
What is left? Schoenberg.
Wars. Politics. Inevitable factor. No connections. Autonomy across the world.
Music and France become a problem.
Post tonal says the teach. What counts as allowable classical models?
Les six. Stravinsky...not a jew!
Jazz was exhausted. Milhaud. Primitive ballet. Response to Rite of Spring
After the value of finding the data. Pictures and plots draw from the smallest classes, including zero.
If a companion can exchange, energy more luminous collides.
Evidence of active fusion, different zones, from outer to innermost.
Schubert. Gretchen am Spinnrade, German lieder.
Jeanie with the Light brown hair. Beethoven Piano Sonata in C minor,
or String Quartet in C#, Chopin's Nocturne in Db, List- trois etude pour piano. Poor piano.
Schumann's song cycles. More moments of "music" rather than lengthy "nothings",
you know what i mean?
More Mozart doing Rossini. This new concept combines the first smile of her face announced by 3 strokes of a silver gong.

Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Oh, Poon City

Poon City, I ain't drivin to you no more
Poon City, Ya ain't gon see me no more
I stayed a while and Id stay some more
but i gotta be leavin on out the door
so Poon City I guess this means Goodbye

Yo city now its filled with tiny lights
and yo poon it gets me so high so high
yo summer dress it dance in the moonlight
but in poon city, it aint gon stay on long

oh poon city how good you been to me
oh poon city how good you been to me
but oh poon city i just gottsa be movin along
on down the road, pocket full of spoons
an a greasy widdo chode

my life will be long
longer then the Mississipi
my load will be large
a large bARge
that wont budge till
i nudge
a lil hodge podge drove a dodge

Ode to the Commode.

http://www.facebook.com/home.php?#!/odetothecommode

Saturday, May 8, 2010

Old Man Spoon Withers

he might be your janitor
he might drive a bus
whatever he is
its not what he is
but how he does it
hes "withers"

portraits of valleys hung on his wall
plauge on his breath
and a rusty spoon in his jaw

he doesnt like porches
he prefers them shadows
alleys and backstreets
dumpster behind your sons daycare
he's "withers"

his front lawn yawned
tire swings and a volleyball pit
miniature eagles on his table
and cups filled with spit
he's "withers"

wine satisfies
a boy that died
so a fridge supplies
what pervades his mind
in the tiny box that he fills
he's "Withers"

boy likes his sinnin
you could tell
cause he grinnin
hed drive you to soccer practice and leave y'in the rain
spoon likes his skin, but hed rather rape your brain

he's "Withers"
and he'll wither on
a dusty road
or in a yellow toothed lie
he'll lie
he's "Withers"



there might be one in your town