Frida 2

Frida 1

Force Sonnet (Graphic)

BLACK (Cartoon)

Van Gough x 2

Apocalyptic Twilight

the sun sets
casting all in an apocalyptic light.
the bomb goes off
showering all in burning rain.
& in the radio-active twilight
there is nothing left to lose
nothing left to gain,
only cosmic debris,
twisting in tiny whirlwinds
on the infinite chessboard
on which the ghosts of tomorrow
play out their moves,
on which our trammelled carriages
move sedately along sequential ruts
playing an old song
now out of tune;
in this everlasting apocalyptic night
breeding supernovas
in the primal soup.
for it is all just a dance.
a cosmic bossanova
that you play on your yamaha
in an old pullover!
it simply an idea in the mind
of a stone
that says, ‘I’m a stone!
I must atone!
Phone home!’
but in the apocalyptic dawn
there is no one left to call.
there is just a valley of bone.
a prayer to a non-existent God.
something that is, and isn’t.
for this is the apocalyptic twilight,
where the wings of perception unfold!

Ressurection Cirkus

The ringmaster cracks his whip
the red sea parts
and out dance streams of majorettes
twirling batons and kicking maniacally high
they mow down an old clown
blowing soap bubbles out of his toy saxophone
the ringmaster holds up red card
the majorettes protest
the old clown weeps
the sea rises up and huge waves crash down
a single dove flies above
an ipod in its beak
looking for new land
looking for a less craven land
exhausted it falls
like a stone
into the waves below
which subside to reveal
the ringmaster
giving jon the baptist
his ringside pep talk
“get in there jon
you’re the number one
baptizing man, you are
you can put them under
blow them away
rent them asunder
give them hell
christ jon
you're the best!”
so jon leaps up
with his baptizing hat on
a river of crazy foam appears
flowing thru the resurrection circus
dividing it in two
on the left bank
french intellectuals
arguing about proust
on the right bank
the rejects from sodom
slobbering, jerking off, and bad mouthing
nelson mandela!
but jon jumps in
baptizing like mad
the crazy foam flying
until a wave of crazed housewives
running at full tilt
cross the resurrection ring
brandishing handbags
like anunnaki
my oh my
they descend upon jon
and punch the living daylights out of him!
its all a bit monty python (thank g.)