2 poems and a collab from Norrin Radd

Pour me a Bowl

back into form i storm
alarmed and clutching a forward
rewards are for the moralless drones
clones of a thief quilted
warm as a mid summers lightning bolt
i felt like 5000
smoking hash in the hallways of hostels in and along the border
storm waters brought on feelings of gathered conscience
smash hammer dagger mouthed class clowns wandering
we scaled the skyscrapers with great repoire
speaking of stocks intermittently
laughing as brashly as if colorado hadn't changed my world
dark storm clouds rolling on the lush green fields
fuel simply described as human motor oil
spoiled feelings on the lightning bugs underneath the moon
the stars
cars came rushing by as conversations pursued
consumed thoughts of blank delocation
as more is perceived
less is controlled by dablooms.
swooned by the swaying of starscapes my scalp was tingled by the news
the blues seemed the only thing appropriate in the smokey dimly lit pool room,the water glistened blue
this brings me back to her eyes,the beautiful ohio mornings that smelt like nag champa and cold rain
those mornings that let me compose this for you
when the world was in fractiles
and my muse in the next room.
the reason I still do this
so it will bring me closer to whom I believe I am
manifesting a way to see clearer
and recreate those days anew

visegoth

she moves like a manta ray
swaying
crossing
making the days parade like
centuries.
her eyes are a time stretch
clutching mornings in honest retrospect
clutch word introspect
the gages are built from a cleptomaniac
stark
staggered
buildings melting realms
her scalp
smelt
of
felt
I breathe lush yellow fields for health classes
Classless.
I sat in a Denver rat trap
guarded by evil spirts and bad ju-juu,as if drugs were scarce.
Rare was it for I to smile.
Dull eyes
witch.
glisten.
The visegoth resides in valhalla

Caught up in a long nap... (an FM NR COLLAB)

in a pair of green shades,
sat a rip van winkler
wondering if happy years
were something one
would find in its sleep...
or a muscle tension, hyperactive disorder
out of bounds, rust stained and carpet munched

it felt like three junes and two suns
when he woke up to the sound of
5 guns blasting holes
in the accused.

tied to a post,
forced to make with it
and mate with the conceptualized
foreskin
of a dickless ape...

I think it was burgundy shades
the presentation was full of thoughts of escape.
lay lady lay,
lay across these big brass bergades.
stray alley cat lengths of strength
her mildness
atrocious
spell bound ways of persuading
were less then hazing
more than a cascading wall of denial.
IN his life he struggled
in my life we mugged them
switch those around and have an answer.
cancer
we coughed that up.
trackers
they followed us up.
abrupt standard address tags that hold information vital
as sonar paths rumble
her eyes keep me star spangled and
bannon.


meanwhile,
imbibed with the ressurection
of a slaven dream,
the salutations commence
and burned are the tatters of a dress
burned are the ropes that tied wrists
burned are the hours we or he can sleep

"we'll look for more shooting glances
in the night sky."

i'll hear her whisper...

"Adieu."

alors qu'elle se mourait

Nous portons cette couronne de droit

you can catch the Raddest here: https://www.facebook.com/dr.galaxy

Demons ripping apart inside

Demons tearing apart
inside of head
As if it
were a
loaf of
bread

Wine dripping from lips
Poetry dead

Bird
Spirals
hits
window
sky
falls
down
shatters

Pages torn from book
Empty words

in absence
when everything is lost
they realize the paradise
was within
in there heart pounding
the people they loved
the people they screwed over
while they had everything
millions of dollars
still an empty can
head hits the wall
throwing up in misery

What lies behind the beauty
Open door
Realize the emptiness
When away from
Distraction
Eyes fixate
Angels will appear
When one becomes blind
Tear out your eyes
For your sight to have meaning

Smiles dripping
From fe(a)ces

People drown upon the misery
Demons drown upon the glory

Homo-sapiens unaware
Of their demonic nature
They go to church
Pray
Then, the cycle restarts

Angels within
but their choice
Vegas
The city
of

flame
rises higher

clouds wait

people kill

with a change of context
an alternate perception
a realization of what morality is
the story, the poem
will hold a different ending

For now
the bottle breaks
dripping red

demons ripping apart head
cluster headaches

sun fades
and starts to set
moon is half full
stars absent of light

millions trapped inside head
banging against the walls
of the mind

sky fell
shattered like glass

No longer blue
world’s colors drained
Like water flushed from
Toilet and into the sewer

Full of diseases,
Contaminated

the river filled with shit

Why is the blood of the winged splattered?
species no longer high

Passed out unconscious
Woke up to little light

Demons screaming
still tearing inside




Sina is friends with transvestite ninjas.

FAIL

On Snorting and Smoking Crystal Meth

I’d been smoking large amounts of marijuana for three or four years and sporadically taking acid, mushrooms, pills, and heavily drinking, too, on occasion. Soon enough, I was introduced through a friend to cocaine, and became a regular user of the drug, often going on multiple day binges.

A couple months after beginning to use cocaine, I came across the drug “crystal meth” for the first time, discovering it at my friend’s townhouse, which functioned as our hub of drug activity. This new substance, “the meth” as it was being colloquially referred to, was rocky and powdery, like cocaine, but a more yellowish crystal white, as opposed to the snowy hue of the yay-yo we’d been buying.

I either purchased or was given, I can’t recall, a small sack of meth, which I’d previously never even heard of. My friend said it was stronger than coke, so I was instantly intrigued. And being in the midst of a coke binge at this point, too, I was seeking some additional enjoyment.

Following my receipt of the meth baggie, I set out a few lines on a small vanity mirror for my friend and me, and we got down to business.

Having snorted a good deal of cocaine and every so often crushing up and snorting pills, I was accustomed to ingesting drugs nasally. However, upon first snorting meth, my nasal passage burned in a way it never had w/prior drugs. I could have sworn my nose was going to bleed after taking that first line, but fortunately it didn’t.

The drug coursed into my body, and I felt a heavy head rush, more intense and producing a higher degree of euphoria than I was accustomed to w/coke. I stumbled back and had to lay down on my friend’s waterbed for a few minutes to compose myself.

Afterwards, I got up, suddenly feeling energized, and took bong hits of pot w/whoever was at the townhouse, played video games, and argued about everything unimportant for hours.

At some point, I realized I had to go back home, exited the townhouse, and got into my car. Driving back to my house was kind of scary. Every other automobile on the road seemed like a cop to me and I drove very slowly and carefully, so as not to arouse suspicion.

Upon arriving home I somehow was able to sleep for about 45 minutes before I awoke to a friend banging on my door. We were supposed to go on a camping trip together. When I groggily pulled open the door he said he thought I was dead and that he’d been knocking for 10 minutes.

We then hit the road, to the campsite, somewhere in the Everglades. On the way there we smoked a pipe of high potency weed, a “kind bud” known as “AK-47,” and I almost lost control of the vehicle on the highway, as I temporarily forgot what I was doing, and nearly hit a mile marker sign. Luckily my friend was alert enough to grab the wheel, probably averting a fatal crash.

Once at the campsite, I don’t remember much of what happened, other than getting there, selling a lot of weed and some coke and hooking up w/a group of girls. My friend who I’d come w/and another close friend of mine who was there disappeared w/some girls they’d met and I set off w/three girls and a Cuban dude, who I think was gay.

The girls, the probably gay Cuban, and me smoked a lot of pot and snorted a bunch of coke in a girls bathroom. Later that day, the probably gay dude and I snorted most of the remaining meth I had. I can’t remember offering it to the girls or if they were smart enough to refuse it.

I don’t remember the meth hitting me as hard, snorting it the second time, but I do remember us, the probably gay Cuban and me, smoking the last bit of meth from a small glass pipe and that really, really fucking us up.

I think it was around nighttime that we smoked it. I recall it tasting very harsh and chemically. Not long after, I started having very vivid audiovisual hallucinations, stronger and unlike those from acid, causing me to see and hear some things I’ll likely never forget.

Out in the mangrove thickets lining the campsite, I started hearing all sorts of hissing/meowing cat sounds and what sounded like people talking in African languages w/all those clicking vowels, which led me to believe painted-face African tribesmen were out there w/spears, stabbing feral cats to death or maybe snatching up and strangling the flailing animals, then sinking decayed, mangled teeth into them and devouring the cats alive, blood splattering everywhere, like some shit from a zombie movie.

Inside a campfire we were sitting around, I saw a couple cop cars, sirens blaring, crashing into each other, over and over, exploding into mushroom clouds.

I also saw my hairy gorilla of a next door neighbor, from when I was 8 or so, who, while smoking PCP, got into a fistfight w/his wife and was dragged out of his house by the police, barefoot, wearing just his pajamas. His penis was fully erect, pitching a tent under his pajamas, and he looked over at me and yelled something in a language I couldn’t understand as they stuffed him into a paddy wagon.

For some reason I kept seeing that gorilla man, all hairy, in his pajamas, penis fully erect, struggling w/the police and being dragged in the direction of the exploding cop cars.

The hallucinatory images of the erected penis hairy gorilla man on PCP and exploding cop cars and horrific sounds of the African tribesmen brutally slaughtering and eating those feral cats alive were really starting to fuck w/my constitution, and as I stared at the fire, this one older dude sitting nearby, maybe a park ranger, seemed to notice me tripping out. We made eye contact a couple times, and I thought he’d say something to me, but he didn’t. Maybe he didn’t really notice me and it was purely delusional paranoia. Perhaps he didn’t really exist.

That night, I slept w/one of the girls in her sleeping bag. I don’t remember if we had sexual relations or not. I do remember her getting up out of the sleeping bag every 20 minutes or so to crouch down in the bushes nearby to piss and me being absolutely terrified the painted-face African tribesmen w/spears might jump down from a tree to kill or eat her.

I also had more weird visions, such as that girl in the sleeping bag w/me’s long dark curly hair looking like medusa snakes and that really freaking me out, too, and me not being able to actually sleep the whole time.

Thinking back on it, that girl and I probably didn’t have sexual relations that night.

The next morning, that girl and I snorted some coke again in the bathroom. Then afterwards I got into an argument w/her about something I can’t remember. I remember cursing her and some random people out and leaving the campsite. Upon telling her I was leaving, she looked at me like I was crazy, and pleaded w/me not to go, but I left anyway.

Driving home was a blur, but somehow I got back to my neighborhood. Next thing I knew I was trying to walk home but couldn’t recall exactly where I lived, so I went to a friend’s house.

He wasn’t home, maybe he was also on the camping trip, I don’t know, but I needed a place to stay and so I tried to break into his house. Unfortunately, I was unable to pry open any of his windows or kick in his door.

Instead I stayed in his backyard for two days.

Those next two days, spent in an old treehouse, I didn’t eat, and drank my own urine. My skin grew severe rashes, which I scratched to the point of drawing blood, and I pulled hair from my head and carved my ex-girlfriend’s name into my arm w/a switchblade, as I thought doing so would save me from her appearing at any moment, in a wedding dress, ready shoot me w/a sawed off shotgun.

After finally passing out, I woke up to a call from a body shop, saying my car was brought to them, totaled, and that it would cost $5000 to repair.

I haven’t touched meth since and probably won’t anytime soon. Especially, too, since I've heard that shit can really run up the dental bills.

Former Teen Star Justin Bieber Arrested for Smoking Crack, Attacking Handicapped Nun, Public Nudity, and Sexual Indecency

Unassociated Press- Tues June 8, 2032 12:37pm ET

Los Angeles, California- Former teen pop superstar Justin Bieber was arrested yesterday afternoon on Vine Street in Hollywood after allegedly parachuting naked from a flying car while smoking crack, using nunchucks to attack several innocent bystanders, and performing a sex act on himself in public.

Horrified onlookers report seeing Bieber, 38, who’s recently become morbidly obese and has tattoos from rival violent Mexican street gangs all over his face, parachute down from the sky, smoking a crack pipe, and babbling in gibberish.

He is purported to have then pulled out a pair of nunchucks from his parachute pack, flung the nunchucks around, and used them to viciously strike at random pedestrians.

According to eyewitness Jethro Smothers, a tourist from Alabama, “Most people were able to get away from him, because he was too darn slow and couldn’t twirl them nunchucks too good, but he did manage to wack a couple folks upside the head, ‘specially them Japanese tourists who was taking pictures of him.”

The worst recipient of Bieber’s alleged nunchuck rampage was a 65 year old wheelchair-bound nun from Guatemala, who was taking part in a food drive for former Facebook employees when Bieber is said to have coolly moonwalked up behind her, dumped her from her wheelchair, and stuck her in the buttocks several times.

Recalled one teary eyed witness who spoke on the condition of anonymity, “She didn’t even see him coming. After he threw her to the ground, he just kept hitting her in the rear, over and over. No one knew what to do. A priest nearby was saying something about him probably being possessed by the devil and tried yelling Psalms from his Kindle Reader Bible at him. But that didn’t work. I swear I saw Justin Bieber flash vampire fangs at the priest and the priest ran away pulling out his own hair and screaming.”

After savagely beating the nun, Bieber is said to have ripped off her habit and put it on his own head.

Witnesses say that at this point his mouth was moving at a different speed than his gibberish speech, like a 1970’s Kung Fu movie.

He was then chased by an angry mob into a local supermarket, where he is reported to have jumped up onto a checkout counter, defecated explosive diarrhea at a bag boy, and anally penetrated himself with the nunchucks while singing his 2010 hit “Baby.”
Shortly thereafter he was apprehended by sheriff’s deputies, arrested, and booked into LA County Jail.

This isn’t Bieber’s first brush with the law. Just last year he was given probation and community service after being convicted of breaking into a Las Vegas Llama farm, spray painting the Llamas with pentagrams, and sodomizing one of the animals. Bieber has steadfastly denied spray painting the pentagrams.

Four years ago he was found innocent of carjacking a large truck full of live chickens and letting the chickens loose on I-95 near West Palm Beach, Florida during rush hour.

Bieber’s career took a nosedive in 2013 when he underwent sex change surgery and attempted to perform under the moniker “Diva Justina,” a faux Latina, Brazilian type persona with a penchant for sequined leotards, tightrope walking, and spontaneous outbursts of tap dancing.

Bieber later had a reverse sex change operation and is reported to have blown the entirety of his earnings on purchasing Michael Jackson’s cryogenically frozen penis and having it attached to his own body.

Following his reverse sex change operation, Bieber has been spotted all around the globe, for a time as a Hare Krishna in airports throughout the Midwest, briefly hosting a late night psychic hotline infomercial in New Zealand, and often appearing at mass trampoline jumping demonstrations both for and against the Quebec sovereignty movement.

Most recently he has been performing in Las Vegas as an occasional opening act to the Insane Clown Posse.



(Bieber during a recent performance in Las Vegas. UAP)

Bieber is currently being held on $250,000 bond and could face up to five years in prison if convicted on all counts. He also faces additional charges for violating his probation. His next court date is set for Friday.

Once Upon a Time by Luis Rivas

Once Upon a Time

we were born wrapped in barbed wire
with pain so barbarous and ordinary that its memory
has been repressed by all guilty participants

only to be adequately replaced with brilliant, original
and new pain; the bum on the corner of laguna ave
and echo park that covers himself up to his head

to dull the cold nights, to block the blinding light of pain
or as drunken guatemalans are murdered for holding knives
off union and 6th (while americans, the less-colorful

kind, are honored as patriots for carrying rifles)
and as i pass by, my car’s rack and pinion needing
repairing and/or replacing, and as i try to remember

if i have enough money on my debit card to buy
cat food, wondering if the vons is still open
while my brothers think seriously on joining

the military, or if i will be able to find parking on
sunset blvd, beautiful, tall girls having taken all the spaces
coming from far off places like wisconsin, michigan

alabama; and myself, finding it hard on deciding
to be upset or not about this, each method of coping valid
it has been said, and there is proof, that once

upon a time i used to write about drinking wild
turkey, sex, loading and unloading fedex trailers and a
fashionable, romantic and poetic embrace of apathy

now, as i speak to you and as you hear me
staring at my lips, weighing out the value and
judging the content, i do not mention my father

and the dry, grey doctors manipulative maltreatment
of his back pain, leg pain, sleeplessness, anxiety
prescribing him the newest and most-expensive

most-addictive, higher-profit-margin narcotics
and you will not know that his company is moving to
mexico for a higher-profit-margin wage trade-of

the irony being that the company is leaving
the united states and its underpaid mexican workforce
for a cheaper-still, underpaid foreign mexican workforce

and as you question the art or lack thereof
believing the lie that words are spoken, that poetry
is found in books, on pages, in history, in magazines

on websites; that it’s spoken, sung, said, read, mouthed
recited, regurgitated; i look onto you and the
disillusionment in your eyes is profound and beautiful

Luis Rivas will be a guest on The Mandala of Infinite Prose and Philosophy
w/ Frankie Metro on June 8th, 2011. You can catch that here: www.blogtalkradio.com/frankie-metro

and while you're there, be sure to check out the show: I can't curse but I can read a f u c k i n poem, hosted by yr faithful editors Newamba Flamingo and Frankie Metro.