blubszog

[blubszog]

No. 52

I would just like to take this fine opportunity to catch my breath and give some thanks for all which has been begifted, nothing’s for granted, and, according to Ram Dass (formerly Professor Richard Alpert) and old goofs in robes and loincloths, “everything’s only relatively real.” Whatever turns your crank, after all, it’s all right here in the middle of your heart.

Something has happened, I’ve…

[blubszog]

No. 51

Take a hint from cats, napping atop master’s bed brings one closer to the infinite source essence of the master; this is the beginning and end of kitty dharma. Another; lick yourself, become clean: lick yourself, cough out a hairball. Finally; Love not the wet food but the hand which provideth it.

Beeping trucks and mighty ducks down in the muck’s murk, there lurks trodding applesauce boys who’ll…

[blubszog]

No. 50

It’s me and my house-mate’s two cats partying it up like mad, earlier I ate the breaded catfish.

Blasting off off off into the comatose of the cosmos. They’re coming for our puns! On the window in the bedroom of my awareness hangs a purple thread, my curiosity is always peaked upon seeing this thread, the radiator squeaks, I pull on the thread (what’s rather curious about this thread is that when…

[blubszog]

Spoonster `

Adam the wolf man finds just the right pan and it goes away into the cupboard until next time

Hello helo hey ho elloh beingaraptdaddleatlatl

I love it when you put your hand around my heart and squeeze out the fresh orange juices inside

Never was my delicious door discovered the notions kept it securely hid betwixt frogs thighs

Spicy enough spicy enough is it spicy to dance in the twilight dining…

[blubszog]

What Now

What now I ask

The bell has made its final toll

When are the lillypads and doodads taken all for granted can we hold ourselves up long enough to find an inch to breathe which of my masks do I hoard and which do I toss in the fire when is it enough is it enough that anyone can come around and tell us it aint never enough it’s tough to get enough of who or what you need it’s easy to do it all like…

[blubszog]

No. 49

Another night in the universe, and then we convene in the dark sake house, hot sake and steamed buns to do us good and put us in the mood continuing on life’s rollicking adventures or lack thereof. Hear of this you sillynannies you humans, what gaming doth thee speaketh of as ye wait for yr steely steem’d buns? Is this not paradise, is this not a pair ‘a dice? C’mon loosen up, shoot that shit! If…

[blubszog]

No. 48

Might as well suck it up, then throw the puck up out a window, any window of our choice, don’t look at me! I’s just the window layer, how do I end up talking about windows time and agin? Not sure, but it must have to do with the transparent, cool nature of them. Ouch, vegetable root chips are one of the more dangerous snack foods out there, biting into one’s kinda like biting down on shards of…

[blubszog]

No. 47

Within the scriptures, as I write them now, of Lake Bed Maka Ska (Calhoun) there’s a recurring theme of forewarning about great, black and sinister birds soaring high above the waters one day. Also, from the mouths of these birds spew poisonous mist melt human skin upon contact; fire is what had done these bad birds in. Only the purifying fire of eradication on fear, ignorance, doubt may burn evil

[blubszog]

No. 46

Yahoo, dude, gather up your dictionaries, we’s going on a word hunt! That’s a Monday for ya, wrap yourself up in the bubbles or other due to dancing all the merry way home row row row that boat gradually through the barn, darn darn darn darn I don’t mean no harm. Seriously, the Wold’s leaders decided on a Mickeymouse tattoo for the next United States President, yes that would look good on Vermin…

[blubszog]

No. 45

The feeling of shittyness drips into the soul constantly saying, “you’re bound for failure, fuck your dreams.” I don’t want to be mad, I only want to survive and have some fun when I can. A subtle sense of death inhabits me. I’m falling in, dipping and sliding like a tomato seed down into the garbage disposal, point of no return. Slow vice grips and putrid drips all humankind like a torture…

[blubszog]

No. 44

What are you doing, my man? Have you become the fencepost of the old and nary begotten? Trodden down upon by the giant feet of mankind’s misery? Have you shot, what you may believe to be your last shot? Not feeling all that hot? D’you feel like the crusty old pile of birdshit at the end of the dock, baked by the searing rays of the Sun into immobility? Damn all the scapegoats, damn all the…

[blubszog]

No. 43

The torn open holy fuck experience of…

We traded our guns, our swords, our bows and arrows, maces, and axes for our own consciousnesses as weapons. Little tribal wars are waged still, don’t get it twisted.

Grey jeans line the upper levels of some super neat leftover meat contraption, specializing in tight-lipped no nonsense abashment. I’m excited to go and pit myself against human discomforted…

[blubszog]

No. 42

Slapping it on now forever I’ll be an anchorman, whistling often, tying A LOT of shoes.

Her face is red with passion, her lips quiver. Damn, somebody’s making me shiver.

If I built a tube from me to you, how long until you get the message? Send a message back, send a million, I don’t care! Only your face may present your true grace.

Now all settled in, preparing to meddle in many a merry madcap…

[blubszog]

No. 41

The people have all had it now, there’s not much more we can put over their heads I’m afraid, all the advertisements and all the slogans can only work for so long.

A holiday for a hole in the day, slay that clay mannequin, win the shin and then dinner may yet be saved for Dave. Goose grease for the hungry lubbers, a treat for them yet! I can taste it already, be steady the mater hasn’t called…

[blubszog]

No. 40

There’s a moth, there it always is. Merry prankster and thankster alike, what am I saying? I’m saying we’re in a kitchen, why in kitchen? Food happens in kitchens and flappenings, I love flapennings, best part of the day. It just so fappens to be a merry whankster, now what am I saying, tooth sharpeners? Nothing, not even one thing, of all things, none of them currently. Who is ticklish? I’m not,…

[blubszog]

No. 39

Pond toon, here’s looking at you you swarmbling little perfect little pincher, mouthwash wisher humdinger, sake guzzling booger flinger. Your mind is a new museum and you are its curator, owner, security, and life-time member.

Well tune me up and gimme a pancake, Albert Ayler’s chant of spirits in which he groans ghoulishly on his saxophone over a clangor of drums which goes on and on like a…

[blubszog]

No. 38

In the Palace of the Moon I reign with glasses vial of fine wine full of old juice drip’t from grapes one full gulp to unplug, glugglug you feasting beast. Acknowledge potato wedges.

Behold the king of shoes, with guitar covered in Garbage Pail Kids stickers wickers furniture, and dressed like Angelica of Rugrats fame too, musical young man ponytailed, inflating the café aire w/ tones to tickle…