The Great Big Jell-O

Get a grip on how short, how short life is, blip switch over, what did you do?  What did you choose in the rental car lineup?  What art did you make?  What love did you share?  List off the hearts you bled inside.  What did you contribute to the great big Jell-O?  What insignificant worm wiggle did you accomplish?  What was the tint on the glaze of the pottery or the curvature of an asshole widening daily to show up at a job and have the itch to pay rent cram in commentary from the consumer hoard to dictate the angle of your back the glisten on your smile to sell that bagel?  How did you alter the pitch in your voice to appear sexier or less threatening or bear-like to fettle with copulation?  How much did you want to end the scoop, to pull you out the batter and be a headlight?  How much did you want another headlight to stare you down on the highway and bet the flinch?  Did you rev the engine and take or spit the pill?  Did you celebrate another birthday believing special or sugar or flame as if you were more alive remembering exiting the cunt?  Are you helpless, stupid; are you at the wheel?  Where are your hands?  Does the idea of over excite you; the end of minute oblivion swallow?  Do you want to eat chaos and marshmallow ghost peppers and paint your face red and pound a kettle drum in a parade?  Do you want the neighborhood to hear stumbling out linens and socked toes starting fist fights in their watered lawns about who is drumming?  Asking who is drumming and you hide in plain sight pounding and pounding until the neighbors eat each other canine-like and ravenous about suing each other’s home owner’s insurance with baseball bats?  Do you want to penetrate her body making her cum over and over again and rampage through her cumming three times without pause just to make you cum once; just to force the plumbing to explode, because she does not know how to deal with a body so unrepentantly alive?  Her eyes roll back in her skull shaking, fumbling to be in her body and all you have are grunts to give her.  Words are amalgamations of culture or surface or evolution and you have devolved into this organism.  You are part of the great vast blob pulverizing each other's flesh so that neither of you can exist.  That is all you do; the drugs, the violence, the anarchism aren’t real, only this how you got here the sex and the portal of one being unlocking another and another like some never ending Russian Matryoshka nesting doll; only consciousness of using each other's bodies like locks keying dehumanizing until you can exist beyond it.  You can end the theater and the flopping fish on the deck and hum, shake, jiggle, aware of something else entirely.

Modern Economics:

Forces of the microchip’s exponentially increasing factor of productivity (i.e. Moore’s Law) tied to the creative potential of a single laborer on a planet of simultaneously exponentially increasing population leads to firms capable of producing resources to sustain society at unprecedented efficiency.  Firms are left with a choice in a vacuum of effective regulation to either retain the profits in the firm or to disperse those profits back to labor and society in a healthy portion to sustain species survival.  Firms consume natural resources at unsustainable rates when perpetuating capital growth is the standard measure of economic health rather than the long term living standards of the global population.  This prioritization concentrates wealth.  Left to our own devices those with power will hoard the resources and control over processes in order to maintain position.  The mathematics detail that government’s controlled by firms run at deficits because revenues are deficiently extracted from the aggregated oligarchs and the social welfare abscesses widen in an environment of unlivable wages which require public subsidization at an unsustainable rate.  This in turn causes the middle to blame the poor through the marketing efforts of the system that enriches those widening the wealth divide.  

New Orleans Parading Adult Dance Troupes

Females:

The Organ Grinders

Bearded Oysters

Muff-A-Lottas

Pussy footers

Camel Toe Lady Steppers

NOLA Cherry Bombs

Males:

Krewe of the Rolling Elvi

610 Stompers

Google away,

You're welcome,

Blog Management

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President Obama visited a mosque in Baltimore today, a historical first for a sitting president.  Religious freedom as a conservative circle talking point is often drenched in Christian supremacy akin to the assumed station of white supremacy dressed in a naked emperor’s clothing.  Obama was a man clothed in not only the right side of history today, tailored in empathy, love, and interconnection, but the stitching of pragmatism to the benefit of the citizens of this country.  The greatest ally seekers of religious freedom can have is a peaceful environment where all religions are free to worship in a respectful manner and continue to enjoy the tax benefits afforded by the American people to subsidize their faith.  The greatest allies Americans can have against militant terrorist individuals and groups claiming to represent Islam are the millions of peaceful practicing Muslims across America and the globe.  This is leadership. 

At the Circus

Marry before the sex circus tent descends

The high wire limp

The pool of water for the high dive dries

Let the hall of mirrors seduce

Only way to make it on the train is to hitch

Before the engine smokes for another town

Scarf bananas and rum lit afire flambé

Burn the alcohol and steep the sweetness

Draw out the sugar past midnights churning

Tiny wheels on track, elephants in line

Thighs bumping the edges of the car

Tigers resigned growls to purrs over a hunk of meat

Flopped in the cage on schedule

The uniformed feeder plopping a carcass for incisors

Eyeing the blood drip in the marble

Seeing the white veiny highways blur

Drunk vision in a disinclination to hunt

To eat what is present accommodating to the culture

Of the whip to sit on the perched chair for the audience

Exposing a belly in submission, tongue kept inside a mouth

The top hat and Barnum, the book of tickets sold 

The holiness ritual of popcorn

Hand in bag to mouth churning until staring at the remnant

Un-popped kernels at the bottom, forlorn

The initial heat, the combustion, the buttery lick, the salt shake

Pupils dilating to see the striped orange beast

The bird lady on the wire, delicate toes and flowered leggings

Audience in the pit-gut wanting to see her fall and tiger to eat a man alive 

Hum in the Skydive

Feeling the listless pall of the old hum

The echo of the whistle slung strap-pack over a back

Clutching around a corner into the ear like a shepherd’s crook

The what is this; the where to go

Emotions sit like a carton of eggs unopened but previously traveled

Shaken some allotment in the voyage

The yellow run look of not that way in years

A tongue rubbing against the back of shell fractured teeth

Pursed smile, pent beyond mouths ready to eat sex, drink pussy and dick

Mention the chicken coops and black cream drenched shit soil

The cage free lifestyle in long white painted prisons huddled crotch of feathers

Mites and becoming peckish to avoid the seed with the antibiotics

The waterboarding feeding tubes like goose foie gras candidates 

To stay alive sloshed in the paycheck stubs and tax returns

Have to file by this weekend, get the solar credit

Be part of something with a chance to make it

The mendacious lollygagger Trump panels mocking water rise

Greenland melt into Shanghai’s gurgle

Time to pay for something in a loving currency

That empathetic exchange of I see you

To stand audacious with the culled bank reserve

To pay affections into the bravery to say, ‘Please stay.’

‘I want you to be here even when I crave alone.’

‘I want to believe you understand the balancing act I attempt’

I can stuff the shaking with coitus or hands on arms swimming in hips

I can drown out the words into a moaning silence

Hear the hum, the wandering siren choir of orgasms 

I can talk about depression berries and pharmaceutical savoir complexes

Powdered into the brain chemicals that make a sunrise connect past a sunset

Like shoelaces tying together one day at a time to walk stretches

The strength to see a point in eating this food of sharing this sway of a body

To elect to venture into the Chewbaccus parade or Barkus to be encompassed

The fear of having to come up with something to say, to stay steady in that moment

Of this is the world, the greater pasture, the masses and a body hold together as it enters that atmosphere

Not unravel into fired ash disintegrating disbursement over the Atlantic

I want to take your hand this way like an introvert skydivers and be 

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I think value is in the essence of shameless honest investment in being present in the moment of exchange.  Whether it be a burlesque stage or the front of a classroom the onus is in being present so that those included in that interconnected moment of now witness the divinity of what you have to offer in your unique form.  Beauty and value comes not from surface of aesthetic appearance, but the volition of spirit breathing life into you as the conduit illuminated through that aesthetic prism. 

Students will flower the seed you spoke.  Lovers will ride the wave of the felicity and animalistic drive you purvey for them to connect.  These are the gifts of the common universe and waves the motion of your being in the common waters creates.  Never doubt yourself for you are a light and other people see that, even in the days you do not see it in yourself. 

The challenge of self-growth meets us all in that moment of decision in what do we bring to that moment of exchange.  Do we prepare as fully; do we expose as naked in our being; do we shed the snake-skins over our heart to state our true feelings; do we trust to ask for help when we need it? 

Growth in my experience is best done with a healthy self-love, acknowledging life is comprised of seasons where the forest burns and grows more fertile by embracing the nutrients in the mathematic that so often our pain is an opportunity to let love in rather than push it away, and it is most often our misconception that the schedule of the season’s transition be based on our ego that deters our happiness.