Which are your last words?

Variety

is the spice of life

so

let’s cook

...

and

drink

like a fish

...

or then

wait

till clouds roll by

...

THE CHURCH: a kick in the cassocks

1D2a phrase shifted.

Ambiguous courtier conflict Dadaist canon
Commonality atrocity comply carmine aria
Attempt ambulatory cogitate conformal breeches
Afterward baffle beat bailey burg
Cretaceous Amoco abler carry acorn clime

A2D Goes travelling...

O califa de Augusto hora de jantar de corte da tripulação aromática o círculo pequeno de Anglicanismo estrondoso coetaneous Taxável Austin lava o cérebro do bissexual de aperto de fraternidade a Bélgica aniversário Ambíguo abaixo do asilo de bispado devolução de bauxita Afirmativa conclusiva Declama o dente-de-leão de ensacamento anaplasmosis estrépito de banhos de Ameixa Pequena e Roxa convém
. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- .
Augustus caliph aromatic crew-cut dinnertime
Chargeable coetaneous blustery Anglicanism circlet
Austin brainwash brotherhood clutch bisexual Belgium
Ambiguous anniversary below bishopric asylum
Affirmative bauxite devolution conclusive
Declaim bagging dandelion anaplasmosis
Damson bates clank befit

BeBelom pernah ada Yang ngangkat theme ini kan di di blognya ... Huehehehe ... Walaupun fenomena di ini mungkin masih kurang familier di kehidupan nyata kita sehari - hari, ma hai May pensare di cattura voi che il vostro amico the un ragazzo casuale you going sulla strada è di gay? Kaya tiap lmm KE Olala Dago yg katanya emang tempat nongkrongnya omosessuali and lesbiche, non posso fare a meno di notare ogni singolo Gruppo appeso fuori là. Gw perhatiin face berpakaiannya, face bicaranya, sampai face mereka menyentuh lawan bicara mereka saat mereka berbicara. Bukan bermaksud offesa atau mendiskreditkan komunitas itu, voglio solo la mia practices "gaydar." Tau gaydar kan? Gaydar gay atau di di radar adalah insting alamiah kita Yang membantu kita ngasih Tau is un ragazzo è direttamente the omosessuali. Ma ditemi, kalo verità sendiri, come si può dire che qualcuno di gay? Apa Yang menyebabkan pertanyaan itu muncul dikepala verità? Apakah karena day-punya ragazza aspetto and maniere? Kibasan tangan uno la mbak2 (atau mas2?) Salone? Atau banyaknya penggunaan kata - kata dalam kamus gaul Debby Sahertian? Susah juga so, soalnya kadang - kadang cowo2 yg girlish juga eterosessuali. Mi ricordo di avere un amico, che è stato il migliore amico delle ragazze, di comportarsi come una bambina, it loves shopping and di adorare mark you, ma egli non era omosessuale, tutti (e almeno allora non era omosessuale, gak Tau sekarang hahahaha). Tapi fakta bahwa kelakuannya Yang seperti itu membuat cowo - cowo jd jaga jarak karena takut akan terjadi sesuatu Yang diinginkan hehe ... Padahal karakter asli temen lmm itu sangat menyenangkan. Sayang act udah KE - giudice duluan.

Break for lunch

Laws That Carcass Flesh

...to their nihilism itself of every benediction.

heavy chains a miasma erect, ready to flow information's benign act,
distant laws that carcass flesh.

everyone shimmering to four more,
paying now in reverse architectures.

it's beautiful, velour orgasms and black needle membrane.
digital bugs return to shanghai a bleeding rot of squeezed afternoon
like weighing hearts,
an ascension.

logistics crackling viscera to total war
but yearning for the double-time of evolution,
frozen, cupped by the fifth uttered of optical events.

time's production of power eviscerating karmic residue in five minutes.

pretend to be a paper clitoris, skulls busking for cheap draft beer,
red tongues of being stabbed cybernetics as the only elixir. free passage
of anorexic labia intensity smuggled in grey sweating midnights.

coins from flesh. nightmarish amplifications
travail dynamics the shroud outside zero breeds,
an oozed spice, sheets of flesh on display
caption deuces barely of female activity.

necklaces death designed, whatever inertia's fragment can be tidal,
hot, rusty holograms, a brightening emerge famous during violent gusts and
false, mechanical daydreams. swollen hydrogen hours drinking the wind.

caffeine piled into the eye's fiction that spider
flights of ten songs ago, gardens filled with rhinestone trailing as if
a skilled flux entry in exposed prosthetic dashes. a name for yellowed curves
ceiling another sphere's balladry. silver-bodied diseases imitated somewhere
between climbing the sky's tryptamine and raw, naked months of syntax, castration's
muzak violation heard as oh no.

tr.

28.10.07

\ Indeces, here-wise, as Daten oder ähnliche (or 丙: \窗户\ температура \ wgaerrlog.txt 255字节丙: \窗户\). I gets so fucking температура \ I gets so fucking wganotify. Here, feel, as settings 409... Or as 字节Перейти: \文献〜 1 \ I offer no Anthologie 〜 I count to 1 \本地人〜 I count upon 1 \ My name is температура \ No No No plus... You cunt of log 1 ,01 KB Перейти: \文献〜 1 \ I offer no Anthologie 〜 1 \本地人〜 1 \ температура \ L anmelden 3.44kb Перейти: \文献〜 1 \ Anthologie 〜 1 \本地人〜 1 \ температура \ Nachricht Datum 0.58mb Перейти: \文献〜 1 \ I offer no never no no never Anthologie 〜 1 \本地人〜 1 \ температура \ messenger_update.yim 0.57mb Перейти: \文献〜 1 \ Anthologie 〜 1 \本地人〜 1 \ температура \ pf4234264505.tmp 0.39mb Перейти: \文献〜 1 \ Anthologie 〜 1 \本地人〜 1 \ температура \ ukanswers.bmp 20.68kb Перейти: \文献〜 1 \ Anthologie 〜 1 \本地人〜 1 \ температура \ UK open.bmp 20.68kb Перейти: \文献〜 1 \ Anthologie 〜 1 \本地人〜 1 \ температура \ UK closed.bmp 20.68kb Перейти: \文献〜 1 \ Anthologie 〜 1 \本地人〜 1 \ температура \ 〜 df3550.tmp 16.00kb sea.sick.

sit.com

now, trucated.
he. har. he. har.
i cut cheese.
at your shooting star.

i say bye bye.
you say hell-o.
i say dry die.
bell-y yell-ow.

i celebrates.
your thin skin states.

i roll

on

you

walkabout
under the sun reflected broken waters walkabout
the dim light crushed on the corner of your eye
walkabout
fanfare slow motion ape high pitched noise contraction
lizard eats lizard
set the fruit on fire
walkabout
crashed car daddy bonzo torch
savage killer lanza
black skin muttered
walkabout
radio song slow and housewife
desert where is adelaide
no school kids harmed

"Everybody has two sides.

The side we show the world

And the side we try to hide.

Desire can be Dark

Truth can be Elusive.

Knowledge can be deadly."

ZANZIBAR PROVERBE

The explanations are for the stupids and the mathematics professors.

Real Wild Child

D&A via BBC, BBC via Fat and Blue - Ver-tion

Book-binding card billboard Clinton
Betwixt current conspirator bathrobe awe
Coy court, beady chalk diabetic consignee
Bottleneck airspace adamant certified claw
Baton change canon coincide argues bale city
Christian certificate degradation checkpoint

NOSISM

Now, lay back on the couch and tell me about your childhood...
Words by Inc.

:




today, The portuguese poet and publisher Valter Hugo Mae
with "o remorso de batazar serapião" won the edition of 2007 of the Literary prize/award Jose
Saramago.
;

:

rui effe (ART)

:

tangled up in a white heart i cannot go back to that lamb land.
the thorn of roses takes up my spine and needle's climb 'n dig.
forked like a liars tongue that twists the truth for convenience.
i am blinded to any virtues less they slap my face and scream.
i could turn to dust and rest upon her upper lip. her upper lip.
the sweat drips and rides down my back into the open wounds.
am i dying or am i dead?

:

cocaine jesus (WORDS)

repeat and start again

i awake to the sound of a distant train and my alarm.
i get out of bed rubbing my aching shoulder.
wishing the night had lasted another hour.
another half hour.
another five minutes.
i go to the ensuite and brush my teeth making sure not to brush too hard.
i go back to the bed and fold its crumpled sheets back into shape.
i make the bed.
i go down stairs and put the kettle on.
i make breakfast.
two slices of toast.
i eat my breakfast and drink my tea.
i go back upstairs and shower.
[another half hour.]
[another five minutes.]
i masturbate in a rush.
i step out of the shower.
i towel my self dry.
i take out a shirt and my shoes.
i put on the shirt and then a suit.
i go down stairs and pick up my brief case.
i go to my car and open the door.
i drive to work and listen to the radio while i drive.
the drive takes one hour and ten minutes.
i wish it would last longer.
[another half hour]
[another five minutes]
i arrive at work.
i switch on my computer.
i make a cup of instant coffee.
i work all day at the flickering screen.
i go to my car and drive home.
i listen to the radio.
i get home and eat my dinner.
i watch the television.
i go upstairs to my ensuite and shower.
i masturbate.
i go to bed and dream.
[another half hour]
another five minutes]

D2a Via cB - Version.

Creek-side anarchy assiduity…
Alyson corroborate deplete decennial.
Aspartic aesthetic - Cartesian assent.
Clinician decipher carline dilatation!

Atkinson committeewomen boast alumina artery
Catapult collector; diaphanous blackout.
Category: civet bate bowel brawl.

"I’m in no position to preach, I’m just screaming.

Follow suit…I beg you, write…REVOLT. SCREAM.

Do whatever it takes."

A Surrealist Manifesto

Portrait Brut

the illuminating griffin rides out

rancid recall taints the scented asphalt a girly pink. like ladies frilly things. like a fresh lilly pond full of bulbous blue frogs croaking their spleen to the roaming moon.

a lovers letter sits waiting for the ink to dry but the paint still runs on the window sill. run paint run for your true love calls. calls the tune.

such a sly note. a slippery throat. a desperate coat.

a herd of horns fills the horizon with the sound of braying. call back the lone figure. the taunting echo of a woman whose dress rides thigh high over her cuban heeled boots.

they just don't make them like they used to.

too.

two.

da do do do.

do they?

glass house's pour their scorn onto the newley shorned heads of the grateful living and the blessed dead.

like slow honey it creeps over the mantle and drips onto the floor in a corruscating mass of illumination but the cupboards are dim.

the cupboards are drear and the secrets they hold in creased and folded packets from k-mart and wall-mart and the tarts of tesco grow pale and languid in the fungus grim dark. like the tales. the tales of two.

and one.

and none.

.

for comments, go here...cocaine jesus

drink me, drink me
the blood
rose garden in eyelids
is this a turbulent movement of your dwelling

:

rui effe
:

rent boy claw finger.

tiny frail hammer hand.

routine for the will o'whip.

sagacious little screw up.

take that cup and fill it.

:

words by cocaine jesus

silicone broadcast against Fuerbach's melt: wide open sizzle vistas the height of my feminine languour. Seraphim the honesty in dead fish mailed to ferocity. atom brilliant tongues as barking a shop doorway's danced goodbye.

backed up

Three

WORLD PEACE: everyone wants it?

:



rui effe
:

Out of Respect, not ridicule...

10 Siblings to account for...

TWO

one

There's something human (Charles)

addaistically challenged, as they say in Louth...

Let's attack
Alongside clean windows,
But don't irritate bizarre forks.

She should biweekly grasp at new handsome ventilators.

Fucking don't answer the lemons weekly, kick them freely.


Get your

Finally killing
Printer around
My spring.
He should
Tease dry
Can and
Burn it
Towards its
Foothill.
One more
Open fat

Pools sadly
Pull as

Raw balls reject.
Ye’ken?

Global Organised Democracy (Candidate List)

COCAINE????? SUICIDE?

This rating was determined based on the presence

of the following words:

cocaine (5x) suicide (1x)

CLASS:a one way war

DRUG

face surface
psychedelic posters
in a hallucinated hazard haze
happiness in vegetation
the plant is happy danger
hyperreal flight
we had barbed wire torsos
zoom green color
Artemis to strobe lights
I believe my perception of the beating heart
mind's crust
sorry, but I have to kill himself
my throat slit
sorry, but I was suicide
we had our dancing donkey shit
we were dancing and dancing
Hammar defecation
declines in the mud
that happens to the meaning of words
Anorexia fails Unicorns
horned animals and
my head through the rectum
vomited towards the headless arms
14 for the arms and neck Vampire
a butterfly tattooing of your pupil
undertake this stupidity
inscribed in
Liquid Vision
my red paint

intheHOLE

D 2 A conversions...

Deoxyribonucleic baroque carotid.
Britches counterpoint, deductible.
Cook beckons actinium.
Devonshire apogee bluest denumerable-
Alkaloid Dickson almost cutover.
Char diagrammatic anthracnose blister;
Confluent cerebellum cannibal…
Deactivate deactivate!
Candlewick coy cavilling colatitude’s
Bates dye, case contribution detent afterthought

my mouth is a mausoleum. yours: a urinal
-- I believe deities are found in both

:

from the dawn of time the boneman sits.
uncurling his dry bones in the dirt of the bone orchard.
a cinder track tongue that rasps out oblivion.
with out wings his thoughts take flight.
thoughts of flesh and the muscle of lust.
eye crack to jaw break his vertebrae creaks.
a thorny note that rustles.
but his dreams are as sand and his lusts are all spent.

.

.

picture for "house of bone" - rui effe (art) with words by cocaine jesus

pool room 11 55 2

Amanda holds her nostrils together as she speaks.
I gave her a sugarfree mint the other day. She must wash in piss and she fucking hovers with the torch.
There is a yell from the floor.
Found it! says Wayne.
At the same time Michael bumps his head on the pool table. Really? he says.
No, I'm just joshing, just kidding, after a breather actually, yeah. We'll have another look for it later, ay. I need to get a smoke in before tea, Wayne says He busies himself with the unzipping of his bumbag and sits opposite the sign of the pool rules and the amendment he has made.
He watches the hand with the cigarette as though it contains great meaning.
Michael places himself at the locked door of the dining room. He holds his digital watch face up to his left eye and then his right. He runs his hand over the watch buckle and its plastic loop and then runs his hand over his shirt buttons. One two three four five and then it joins the trousers.
Amanda brushes a long piece of ash that has maintained its shape from her skirt.

pool room 11 55

Michael is crawling on the floor.
It might still be in my eye, but I think its fallen out.
Michael speaks with precision. His words are robotic and formal, perhaps he stutters at times. His voice holds a rasp frequently heard in elderly men. His left leg is shorter than right by twelve centimetres and his vision is poor necessitating the wearing of contact lenses and glasses.
Right - well lets have a look.
Wayne is a veteran from Vietnam given to wearing denim jeans and plain white t shirts with his rolling tobacco in a nylon bumbag that he wears like a holster loosely around his hips. He shares a room with Michael.
Amanda sits in the corner of the room next to the coke machine. She pats her hair and watches her exhalation of grey smoke hang above the pool table then disintegrate. She is slumped in the plastic chair and appears to examine the ends of her her glassy black hair with the same disinterest as she regards the crawling men on the floor. Michael believes he heard her scoff when he entered the room.
it's blue, Michael says, a blue tint to help me see it, not a really strong blue just a bit bluer than-
I know what you mean mate. I think. I mean I was gunnasay your eyes are nearly black. That's what I thought when I first saw you. They're close to bein' black those eyes of Michaels.
They're like my fathers. Michael repeats what he has heard other people say about his eyes. It seems a worthwhile comment to make, though Michael has no real recollection of the colour of his fathers' eyes.
The lino floor is a dark blue and a light blue speckle pattern. Michaels hands search across the pattern to the indented floor where the pool table used to be. The vptsdu group (with their t shirts made in the craft room in the stle of the rolling stone t-shirt with the tongue carrying the lettering) move the pool table about once a week to account for the apparent land slip of the building and the impossibility o a fair game. They lament the tilting pool table and create various handicaps for those who have become accustomed to the table or create teams and knock out systems with various levels. Sometimes no one wants to play and the sticks splay across the tables, the sound of the balls hitting each other or banging into the felt is gone. Michael does not attempt to play although Wayne has offered to teach him. Michael folded his arms at the point where his twice turned up cuff was and announced he was not a gambling man, even when Wayne declared that this was a sport that all people could play.
Michael has heard jokes his father would call 'a bit off colour' about women playing pool and the various advantages and disadvantages of the table in a way that made his skin hot and fear that he had not checked all the fastenings on his clothing.
A girl in slippers walks around the couple and sits cross legged on the table next to Amanda. She takes a zippo lighter from her dressing gown and puts a cigarette in her mouth.
Wayne jumps up from the floor and lights the cigarette. The girl says thanks on her inhalation and he returns to the floor in a new commando style position.
I love your hair Amanda.
I look like Morticia. It's hideous. They let you out without a nurse? That is so unfair. You've been here - what, a week?
It's been a month. Did you dye it?
She touches she own short fluffy hair.
Mine belongs to a duckling. Does the fur ever go.
Er. I've never had that thank god. it's disgusting. She pulls at her ear. There was this girl in here last time and I swear, she showed me her stomach, god knows why, I mean I did not ask to see it, and it was foul and swirling from, like her belly down, front and back.
Her voice has deepened and softened and she nulls at her navel ring. I mean I wanted to say, ever heard of ah, depilatory products, lasers, razors!
The girls laugh. Amanda laughs herself into breathlessness.
The blonde girls voice is too deep for her body and seems to belong to another.
I did that thing with the water, like you said and stood rightr at the back of the scale and then they let me come down here. What are they doing?
No idea. Don't want to know. Did you see that newgirl? stink bitch nurse is on today. more carbs amanda

CENSORSHIP: the mother of prevention

The Plight of Armin Meiwes

Dear Diary,
I got five responses today! Three pictures sent; the other two just letters. Don’t these people read the ads carefully?! When I wrote, “Looking for 18-25 year old man who want to be slaughtered. NO FATTIES,” didn’t they read the last line, the part about fatties!? Why would anyone want to eat them?
Armin

Dear Diary,
I’ve finally found a nice computer technician whose head would fit just perfectly in my crock pot. I’ve been watching Martha all week to try to get ideas, but I’m just not sure how to prepare my new friend Bernd. I wish I cooked at home more instead of going out all the time. I’m really looking forward to homemade meals but I’m not sure I’m ready for anything beyond sandwiches.
Frustrated,
Armin

Dear Diary,
Things went well with Bernd the other day. We had a nice chat and fried ate a little bit of him before he had to go. The diet’s going great — I’ve lost ten pounds so far and it’s only been a week! I wasn’t sure whether white or red would go best with Bernd, but I’ve found a fragrant Shiraz that complements him perfectly. Off to the market to get some more barbecue sauce!
Armin

N.B. For a complete list of tasty recipes, consult J.A.’s Cookbook For A Healthy Body.

• a: there's something wrong here
• b: things start to get interesting when they go wrong
• a: but there's nothing new
• b: you could see it like that

Cooking time 1 to 2 hours




Ingredients
1½kg/3lb 5oz stewing beef, cut into cubes
175g/6oz streaky bacon
3 tbsp olive oil
12 baby onions, peeled
18 button mushrooms, left whole
3 carrots, cut into quarters or 12 baby carrots, scrubbed and left whole
salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 tbsp chopped thyme
2 tbsp chopped parsley
10 cloves of garlic, crushed and grated
425ml/15fl oz red wine
425ml/15fl oz chicken or beef stock
For the roux
50g/2oz butter
50g/1¾oz flour

Method
1. Brown the beef and bacon in the olive oil in a hot casserole or heavy saucepan.
2. Remove the meat and toss in the onions, mushrooms and carrots, one ingredient at a time, seasoning each time.
3. Place these back in the casserole, along with the herbs and garlic.
4. Cover with red wine and stock and simmer for one hour or until the meat and vegetables are cooked.
5. To make the roux, in a separate pan melt the butter, add the flour and cook for 2 minutes.
6. When the stew is cooked, remove the meat and vegetables.
7. Bring the remaining liquid to the boil and add 1 tbsp of roux.
8. Whisk the mixture until the roux is broken up and the juices have thickened, allowing to boil.
9. Replace the meat and vegetables, and taste for seasoning.
10. Sprinkle with chopped parsley and serve with Pea and spring onion champ.

from beginning to end

Monday 0.2

The balls of ice are so huge, hidden beneath distances that absorb the invisible waves that are too interstellar to plant roots in any old cacophony. Do they want the buzzing wires overhead to jostle their vulvas, to make assassination blue and forc it to intervene in plot congestions too vintage for the vaguest suicide? There's a tattoo of Nazis serenely slitting throats and sucking hungrily at the vestiges of living sight, the bridge's final warp of cleavage unbound by anything. Maybe the juices poured over what remains of grace can explain the physics, but my head has become nothing more than a backdrop for gleefully belligerent stops at the fourth stereo to be found alive and twitching today. Military precision is vastly overrated after twelve lonely years wandering around the crucifixion. That's frustrating, meteorologically speaking.

Spiderwebs and lyrical heartbeats berate us loudly as we pass for being complicit in the suburban sunburn of Man, the shocktroops of the mirror's chiseled Real. Peering around the blind explosives that are commodified time and space, it is harder and harder to differentiate between cooptation and praying-mantis effluvia stuck to overturned desks. I can only pray to uplifted skirts, my mind's slow genesis burrowing into strong curves. But tomorrow is the apocalypse, so...

I don't like it when I'm forced to speak louder than the menial tasks that occasionally spring up out of the tile flooring, a surprise betrayal of trust for the bleary-eyed and hungover to keep them below forty watts. Iam much more atractive when chaind to ivory breasts that combat the shakes with their own dark matter. The Asiatic drone is lighter than my purple crown, but it seems as though I have begun to accrue my own cache of acolytes who insist on carrying me through the tunnels and asking me questions about the lack of sunlight and what-have-you. I've become their gloomy guru of choice, the wads of beef in their collective sack, so I have to be careful my genitalia doesn't freeze, or six may tongue nine quicker than any of us can imagine. Iam forced by the crowd's inscrutable hips to admit my preference for being semiotic, and my chromosomes are accused of collaborating with the police.

It's only when elephants start rampaging down the street, shooting people in the head at random, that I truly realize how supersonic meaning has become.