I'm losin it...
    Pre-dawn
    elements of the fresh
    lightened morning air
    yet the merry-go-round continues
    like fabric stretched to limit
    a drip drip drip of honey dew
    through the orchestration
    of pseudo prophetic choices
    by serendipitous alternative...
    NO VULGAR LYRICS
    what the fuck does that mean?
    lame duck prescience
    lacquered by blind faith servitude
    leaving one dog tired with the
    elements of species
    from sprout to ancient
    exhausted by their growth
    hence
    lack of it
    Something for everybody
    tethered hats
    and curly toed shoes
    we are surrounded
    they whistle while they work
    drink your beer
    borrow a fin
    fuck your woman
    then slap you in the ear
    all the while smiling

    mildew on a kings moon
    a shadow in silver light
    muffled chorus of butterfly wings
    trapped light in the center of bone
    muted sound of night trains distant
    in the astench of argyle dream

    licking, gentle sucking
    of sweet licorice cunt
    on whorling tongue
    she is as mine as it gets

    she said she really loved me
    then she left with her

    wall of skin hardened
    turgid
    turgor
    crisp and jutting
    penetration
    of soft vulnerable regions
    she was a he
    he was a she
    doesnt matter at a certain point
    or so she always said

    i was her bitch slap
    in her slut of life
    me,
    for acting like it didnt matter
    for feeding sloth ideals with black pudding
    for lulling into maddened slumber
    then murdered by mediocrity
    to be be mounted on shining walls
    with insane smiles
    as teeth chatter in the halls of souls
    and all that lived forgotten
    as constant indigestible chewing
    causing caustic inabilities to swallow
    in fleeting moments of wisdom
    amidst the mire falling sands
    in the silken skies riddle of the plough
    in an audience of primal fear
    an ad hoc mania tossing opinions
    like horse shoes
    clanking off rusty pipes
    in the neighbors yard no beginning
    no end
    a cannibal carnival
    of scorched flesh in feathered abyss
    yet with that uncanny swagger
    indicative of youth
    a paper face with a penciled grin
    faeries dance in damaged eyes
    a mourning air
    bleak
    disturbing
    a salamander crawling out of a body bag
    with all the pleasantry of a greased mime
    spinning a web of prey defiled
    with asymmetric trapezoids glowing on shoulders
    like no shit but a swans song

    most women have a pussy
    this one
    had a rat...

    baffled by the silence
    of stoned artifacts
    through an outpouring blast
    of stifled moans
    a bleeding invasion of happiness
    stretched like the entrails of a neon fix
    simplified
    like lust
    pressed through frosted glass

    mockingbirds fill the hole
    with flagrant irony
    like all things are false
    where even false is false
    and pretension is a straw
    in a steaming pile of shit
    a loud voice stricken with emotion
    grating
    like glass on concrete

    a simple blues beat

    then again
    being sadly misinformed
    the humanoid sub-species I am
    who am I to consider beauty?
    when the definition is arbitrary
    depending on mood
    or morality
    deep within the angered blood of Archilocus
    white is the absence of color
    dark is the absence of light
    reason is etched by ignorance
    as it burrows gaping holes
    in lilting parodies
    smoke filled air sits like mud
    on lost membrane of love
    a laughing mucus trap
    well oiled
    yet still decayed

    lost in dithyramb image

    monsters feed on porkpie mind
    battery powered lover single handed apathy
    in a slow dance with a dowagers corpse
    as the lizards tail is writhing

    rough cut subterfuge glazed
    with mortared rhapsody

    circling vultures
    a pixie dying
    as the gods laugh
    at our purest infertile stench
    a day of melded furrows
    and cornered nowheres
    like the flight of the bumblebee
    in humbled morgues
    a day of the aryops
    as damned as the megodon
    like cloth monkeys
    spitting on plastic torch
    of moth vision
    a day of pleasing rubber tortoise
    a day of sweet thought invasion
    buttered by omenous recourse

    its clear insanity is prominent in our everyday function.
    Most of us couldnt recognize it if it walked up and bit us on our ass
    I was wondering where those teethmarks
    came from...

    click for larger view
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    Jeff Filipski

          Born in Buffalo NY. Educated at S.U.N.Y. at Buffalo with a degree in oil painting. Grew up between two steel plants and a toxic waste dump. The only polak in an all Irish neighborhood. Home sweet home. Expected to make steel. Not to think. Never made steel. Still waiting to think. Too much lead in the drinking water. Will wait some more...Currently living happily in Melbourne Florida with a wife and two children...
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